


Partners in Crime

by Rxchello



Series: My Voltron Gang AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is -that- bad bitch, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Everyone is Older than Canon, F/F, F/M, Finished lads lets go!!, Gun Violence, Guns, Hunk has a Catering Business, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Krolia OOC, Lance is a Drug Addict, Langst, Love and Loss, M/M, Mad swearing bc I got a sailor's mouth sorry, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Keith/Lotor (Voltron), Not Beta'd, Past Keith/Shiro - Freeform, Pidge is -the- bad bitch, Sharpshooter Lance, Slow Burn, Tired Coran, Violence, everyone is a human, klance, oblivious keith, past sheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rxchello/pseuds/Rxchello
Summary: Kogane's Weapon Manufacturing was the largest, wealthiest weapon distributor in Los Angeles, ran by the named man himself, Texas Kogane. That is until the operation is taken over by the Tirador, the deadliest gang basking in the sunlight of the city ran by the sharpest shooter, Lance McClain. Did they need to take it over? Probably not. But was it an easy target? Yep! So why not take it?Little did they know that Texas's son, Keith, wouldn't go down without a fight. After a strange turn of events Keith finds himself in the ranks of the Tirador, discovering the Gang Side of LA that his father worked so hard to shield him from. Throughout a few months, Keith finds out just what he got himself into, learns how to fight, and learning the dark secrets the Tirador and the other gangs had to offer.With as much knowledge and skill he ends up with, would you blame him for using it to his advantage?However, power comes with a price, and somehow, somewhere, it comes with feelings too.For the most dangerous one, of course.





	1. A Business Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! o/ This is my first Voltron fic which was actually adapted from an old WWE one I never finished yet quite enjoyed the concept of. So why not remix it into a show I enjoy 10x more?
> 
> I'd like to just establish that Texas is definitely an alias for Keith's dad because even though I love the Texas Kogane meme I couldn't take the idea of using that as his actual name seriously LOL
> 
> Anyway, I'm actively writing this throughout the summer so expect updates as I manage to actually crank out chapters when I'm in the mood. I promise it will be finished at some point :)
> 
> Socials and more info at the end! Enjoy. <3

10 years ago.

_Texas Kogane sat in his office nestled deep below the warehouse, frantically shuffling through the papers on his desk trying to find the ones he really needed. He could tell by the sounds of things above he didn’t have much time, yet he didn’t seem to understand why. For years he provided the gang operations throughout Los Angeles with all the weapons and tools they could ever ask for, and now one decided to rebel. He couldn’t tell which one it was, he could only tell the weapons being fired were his own--and not by his own men. He never trained his men to fight the groups because they never wanted to fight him, but clearly times had changed and no one within the concrete walls expected it. The lights went out, and a plastic lighter was all he had as a source of sight. He held it in one hand while still shuffling with the other. The ceiling above his desk crumbled ever so slightly at the rough stomping and blasts occurring upstairs, and with one swift motion he grasped the one paper he truly desired: His goodbye letter. Written on a faded yellow note sheet, the letter was dated October 23rd, 1992, the birthdate of his only son. He had a feeling the second he started his business it was going to go south eventually, and he wanted to say goodbye to the one family member he never got to explain this all to. The one he kept in the dark, and the one he wanted to remain there. He lost his seconds to read it over as the door to his hiding spot flew in, a group of five or so teens waltzing behind it. Four of them stepped into the corners of the room, the remaining one walking right up to his desk. Texas sat there, stone-faced as the intruder took a seat right in front of him._

_‘’Scared?’’ The man--more-so kid asked, removing the lighter from Texas’s hand and using it to light the cigarette resting between his teeth._

_‘’I have no reason to be.’’ Texas huffed, folding the letter and keeping it tight in his grip._

_‘’Do you understand what we’re doing?’’_

_‘’Yes.’’_

_‘’And why we’re doing it?’’ The kid blew out a stream of smoke in Texas’s face, the older man cringing as it hit him._

_‘’No, honestly. I’ve been nothing but loyal to you. My business has been nothing but loyal to you. Why are you trying to destroy it?’’ His voice had no tone to it, it was just speaking. All the boys in the room let out a laugh as the smoking intruder shook his head, grinning._

_‘’We aren’t destroying it, Tex,’’ Texas’s eyes widened. ‘’We’re taking it over.’’ It was then Texas’s turn to laugh, the aura of confusion flowing throughout the room._

_‘’You’re just a child, Tirador. Sixteen,’’ Texas reached out and lightly tapped the smoking adolescent’s cheek, ’’Look at you, babyfaced and all. You are in no position to run a business!’’ The intruder called Tirador snapped his cigarette in half and glared at the older business owner. He ran an agitated hand through his hair, his ocean-blue eyes locked on what was on the desk rather than the man teasing him._

_‘’Technically, I could,’’ Tirador shrugged, kicking back and placing his feet on the desk directly upon the pile of papers Texas had went through. ‘’I’m 17 today. Almost a full-fledged adult. I could do whatever the hell I wanted, and no one could tell me otherwise.’’ He got a bit louder, a snarky tone in his voice._

_‘’So destroying a man’s hard work is your idea of a great birthday party?’’ Texas was counting the seconds in his head till this formality was over. A gang known as The Tirador were here to kill him, and this conversation was just a time waster to get any last thoughts out._

_‘’Conquering, not destroying-’’_

_‘’I heard what was going on above. I know you looted what you wanted and destroyed the rest.’’_

_‘’And I can get more of what I want once your blood stains the corners of these papers.’’ Tirador slowly stood up, retrieving a pistol from his waistband. It was a small thing, but precise. Quick and painless._

_‘’You don’t use guns like this. You’re all scopes and sniper rifles. Your goons aren’t trained to pistol whip people. They rarely shoot well anyway,” He shot a look to the unwary stances of the boys around the room. “Why do you want this place?’’ Tirador laughed and spun the pistol in his hand, waiting for a sense of fear from Texas. The old man was on guard though, like he was ready for what was to come._

_‘’Turf, and profit.’’ Tirador shrugged, getting straight to it. Texas sighed, refusing to let this continue. He stood up, Tirador and him staring face-to-face. The other boys in the room retrieved their weapons of choice, and Texas just stared straight ahead. Tirador let out a final laugh as he went to shoot the old, weakened man, but tensed up as he felt a hand grab his wrist._

_‘’One last thing.’’ Texas huffed out as he felt a bullet graze the side of his head. Missed shot. Blood slowly started to drip down as his hand shook. The hand grasping the letter._

_‘’I’m not here to fucking reason.’’ Yet for some reason, Tirador lowered his hand and waited for a continuation._

_‘’I refused to let any of your shitshow gang world know more than the public knew about me or safety reasons, and because it wasn’t any of your concerns,’’ Texas fiddled with the letter in his hand. He carefully ran his fingers down the fold, making sure it was closed tight. He held the letter out to Tirador, who just stared at it. ‘’I don’t care how, when, or where, but please, all I ask is that you make sure my son receives this letter. I’m sure once my death makes news his information will be released, and you can find him then. You can even shoot me repeatedly, whatever you like.  Just please make sure he gets it.’’ He shoved the letter in Tirador’s hand, who just held it there._

_‘’You have a son?’’ One of the boys accompanying Tirador asked, a following hiss shutting him up._

_‘’He’s no concern to you. Any of you. Getting that letter to him is, and that’s all I’m asking for you to do.’’_

_‘’Maybe.’’ Was all Tirador said as one of the boys shot at Texas again, nailing his shoulder as he fell to the ground clutching the area._

_‘’Would your father have wanted this, Lance? Would he have carried out such a violent operation? Would he have even wanted you to inherit the operation he killed himself for to get it off the ground?’’_ _Blood dripped from Texas’s wound as Tirador launched himself over the desk, shooting him repeatedly. Over and over his pistols’ bullets barreled through the man, the shells bouncing around him. He then realized why he preferred to shoot from afar, the blood staining his clothes irritating him as he pulled himself away. His escorts stood in silence, all following as one lit a match, flames lighting their way out._

_If they were gonna run this place, it was going to be reinvented, refurbished, and re...placed. For some reason Tirador still had the letter in his hand and didn’t know what to do with it. Luckily one of his escorts said something that pulled his focus from it._

_‘’Why did that old fuck call you Lance? That’s such a Galra name.” A feminine voice chirped from under a mask, a gasp following as she felt her hoodie being ripped forward._

_“You didn’t hear that, got it? You imagined it. I’m the Tirador. That’s it. Got it, “Ezor?”.” Lance refused to let go Ezor’s hoodie until another member pulled him off, bracing a blow that didn’t come as they all decided to walk away in silence._

_“Sorry Tirador.” Ezor hid a frown behind her mask as they headed back towards their hideout--any alley fit for a temporary stay. Not another word was said as the group retreated, proud of their accomplishment to only further their future success._


	2. A Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith Kogane - News Intern by day, Glitter God by night.

_ Present Day - LA. _

Keith clicked the end of his pen as he watched the clock slowly tick by, the man at the front of the conference room continuing to talk about god knows what. He didn’t want to be there, but everyone knew that. He didn’t want involvement in any of this, but everyone knew that. However, no one really knew why he was there in the first place. The topic of conversation was how to approach the latest news scandal circling the city: “Gangs going public”, without causing panic or scaring the citizens of LA. That was what was written on the board, yet the man at the front seemed to be talking about how to market this for profit.

“We’re a news station, not an advertising business. Get back to covering the scandal, not branding it.” The CEO, Mr. Iverson, coughed, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table.

“Right. Sorry, sir. Anyways, I was thinking; Now that the “gangs” have decided to go public, wouldn’t you think they’d be interested in being interviewed to try to recruit more members?” Keith had to stifle a laugh as the man’s use of quotation marks. At least he understood these gangs were shitshows. Keith thought back to what his father did, a defiant lawyer who did work with the real criminal underground to keep them safe. Those groups worked completely underground. Hell, Keith didn’t even know who they were. No one did. That’s how good his father was at defending them in court. These groups coming out just seemed to walk outside and shout to the world that they sex traded, shot people, and committed every crime possible to get off. True immaturity.

‘’We aren’t trying to grow their numbers though, nor do we typically conduct interviews.’’ Iverson pointed out, Keith’s attention fading every second the conversation carried on.

‘’We might as well try before this story gets picked up by tabloids and such, it’d just bring more glorification than the alertness it should really collect.’’ The man tried to argue, everyone at the large round table looking to Iverson for his verdict. Everyone except Keith, of course. His internship position landed him a short seat right next to the boss, all eyes seeming to linger to him time to time due to the drastic height difference.

‘’If you can get them to conduct an interview safely and without bringing the interviewer any harm, then I see nothing wrong with attempting this.’’ He shrugged, seeming to want to end this more than anyone. The man at the front smiled with pride at his successful pitch.

‘’Who would conduct the interview though? I don’t trust any of our journalists to get the job done. Everyone with a brain fears what’s to come.” A business partner at the front asked, concern breaking through her voice despite the capitalist stoic-face she held that most around the room did. The room was silent as everyone went into a thinking stance, while Keith’s head remained up in the clouds. His shift was up in five minutes, why should he contribute? Then Iverson had an  _ “ah-hah” _ moment, taking a bat to the back of Keith’s head.

_ “Keith.” _ Not a real bat, but words with an impact strong enough to be one.

“What?” He stuttered, his pen-clicking coming to a halt. 

“Eh, interns are a dime-a-dozen. Why not?” Their gazes met with a smirk. “What, don’t want to put that clicking pen to use?”

“I’m just an intern.” He tried to argue, but as he glanced around the room, he knew he wasn’t winning this argument. His young age of 26 couldn’t even be used as a defense.

‘’Who could use the experience. Think about how cool it’d be to put ‘’interviewed a gang leader’’ on your resume for when you want a real journalist job!’’ Iverson clapped his shoulder, rising from his seat. Keith rolled his eyes and moved his bangs out of his face.

‘’Yes, because the words ‘’gang leader’’  _ anywhere _ on a resume gives me the job without even trying.’’ He spat back, his notepad falling out of his lap as he rose to step out. The pad open to a page of sketches he messed with during meetings. He quickly slid under the table and picked it up, hitting his head on the edge of the table as he got back up. 

‘’Ow! Sh--oot!’’ He hissed, holding the area of impact.

‘’I call that karma.’’ Iverson rose his brow.

‘’What did I do?’’ Keith met him with a glare. 

‘’Refrain from saying yes to a position offered to you. Don’t be a slacker intern, just accept it.’’ He pressed his lips in a line as the silence continued. It only broke when a buzzer rang throughout the whole office. Intern dismissal. A few others were more than eager to bolt out of the room as Keith followed, not daring to look back at anyone in the conversation. ‘’Don’t think you leaving means this door is closed!’’ Iverson called after him as he made a beeline for the front door.

‘’I never said no, but, no!’’ He called back as he reached the front door, using full force to push outward away from the hellhole that was the Garrison News Network. He was more of an art type, but he made a promise to someone to help bring more honesty and clarity into the world. Apparently this was the place he was supposed to use to do so. An internship at 26 was sure to pilot that goal, at least that’s what he told himself. He’d rather be at home painting, but the minimalist culture his part of the city thrived on wouldn’t help that make a dime of a living. As he took in a breath of city air and made his way back to his apartment, he took a look around the area and wondered why gangs were such a large topic all of a sudden. For a city so full of themselves nothing else mattered, why did the so called “scum of the earth” get a spotlight? Money laundering fall through? Drugs finally get faces? Who knew. He didn’t care to find out, but he found himself taking a glance behind him every so often and checking every alley for a sign. He wasn’t paranoid now, was he? No, because this was all a huge joke. Just young people using mass hysteria to have fun.

He sure wished he had the capability to be the mastermind behind something like this. Yet all his friends moved away with wives and lives, leaving him here in a part of city he realistically shouldn’t be able to afford. His mother insisted he stay though, supporting him enough to maintain the lifestyle she raised him with before she skipped town, leaving him to grow up on his own with a roommate that managed to embrace her creative side. Something he envied but learned to enjoy alongside her. He couldn’t help but smile as he buzzed for their apartment, hoping she was home as he forgot most of his things in the midst of rushing out the door again. He usually only managed to bring a pen and paper, dubbing it a “journalist’s weapon” that he was using to get fully immersed in the world of the news, but his roommate argued he was just a forgetful hardass trying to prove something. Because forgetting your keys and phone made you a badass. He sighed in relief as the front door unlocked, letting himself in and walking up to the third floor where they lived. He was greeted by a loudly-purring maine coon and an irritated looking purple-haired girl.

“You really need to stop forgetting your shit. I was in the middle of a makeover video!” He took note of her half-glued eyelash and glitter trailing down her face. He could only guess what she was trying to go for this week. 

“Oh come on, Acxa. After all the shit I help you with, I think you personally opening the door for me is a daily favor that keeps us even.” He teased as she smacked the back of his head before retreating to her room, the lights she used for filming glowing under the door. He reached down and gave the cat a scratch as it followed him to the kitchen. “You hungry, Red?” The cat seemed to rub up against his leg in confirmation as he opened a can of food and offered it to the fluffy bean. The cat ate happily as he dropped down on their futon, staring blankly at the ceiling as he thought about his dad again for the second time that day.

He used to have nightmares, crying fits. He used to be traumatized by the whole thing. He had a whole three years of peace though, that seemed to be going into relapse as visions of the smiling man on the billboard flooded the violet-eyed-man’s mind. He wondered what his dad would say about him doing the interview. Being a journalist intern at all. And what’d he’d think about him in general. That was a thought that always lingered, regardless of where he was. He had an urge to get up and look for something that would only be thought about when he was in this nostalgic-longing state, but he tried to fight it as long as he could. As Red seemed to sense his unease though, she walked over to the bookshelf and brought back a folder in his mouth. Something Keith had trained her to do when he cried all those years ago. Acxa had come back out just in time to see this, however, and she sighed.

“Keith, no--”

“Only a minute.” He argued as he sat up, taking the folder and sprawling it’s contents all over the floor.

“ _ No. _ ” Acxa pressed more assertively, stalking over and trying to pile the papers back up. There were too many though, and even Red meowed against her actions.

“Why not?”

“Why are you?” She tried to keep her gaze on him as long as she could, but even she felt herself glancing down at the photos, the lists. Everything. A glint of hurt wavered in her eye.

“Garrison’s making me do an interview with one of those new public bullshit “gang leaders”,” He snorted as he sifted through the clippings of news articles. “Made me think about him.”

“They really have nothing left?” She tried to clean up again, but not able to beat Keith’s determination, she sat back and watched as he started to fall into one of his hot-headed frenzies.

“Guess not.” Scattered on the floor were documents about his father’s death, along with other things tagged to it. Photos leading up to the day he was pronounced dead, cases he was in the midst of defending in court, news clippings, everything. Even a grocery list he had the day before it happened. None of these showed signs that he was out of sorts, especially not enough to take his own life. Yet there it was, the claims he hung himself because of the pressures of his job. Sure, he could have been hiding it, but Keith knew damn well they buried an empty casket. He was young, very naive, but not enough to be deceived by those close to him. Another thing he kept telling himself as he piled the papers up himself, flinching as he felt Acxa’s hand on his shoulder.

“If it helps, I still believe you.” He tried for years to get anyone to listen to his reasoning to believe his father’s death wasn’t suicide. Hell, it wasn’t even an accident as far as he was concerned. But no one would. Not his mother, not his friends, not even the only other man in his life he came to value as much as he did his late parent. That boy disappeared too, leaving him with one makeup-addicted girl to support and believe in his investigation. She never doubted him despite the multiple times she had to help him out of a withering heap on top of the folder, but she never yelled at him. She was always a shoulder, and right now she used his to pull him back to reality.

“Thanks, Acxa.” He flashed her a small smile as she took the folder from him, putting it on a higher shelf that Red couldn’t reach as she walked back to sit on the futon with him.

“So, movie?” She tried to move them both along as fast as she could.

“As long as I can pick this time.” He swiped a spot of glitter off her cheek and onto his own, grinning as she rolled her eyes and tossed him the remote. He learned to appreciate the art of makeup after living with a guru for so long. It was like painting, but on yourself.

They ended the night covered in glitter watching some shitty chick-flick.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Meanwhile,  Galra HQ -  _

Lotor, or as he liked to refer to himself as, “Prince Lotor”, strutted down the hallway of his family’s mansion until he reached the door he envisioned as soon as word hit that he’d soon have a new assignment that morning. After a brief on what their next morning would entail, he knew he wouldn’t want to face it alone. So he went to the person who was always by his side, willingly or not.

“ _ Allura, _ ” He drew out as he leaned in her doorway, meeting a face that clearly didn’t receive their evening coffee yet. Only the weak slept. “How’s my favorite princess this evening?”

“Your only princess,” She rolled her eyes as he walked in, joining her on the bench at her vanity as she prepared her look for the evening. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I just come say hi--”

“We never talk unless it’s business,” She pointed out as she lined her lips in cherry red. “What is it this time?” Lotor ran a hand through his hair as he watched her, trying to hide the blush in his cheeks as she looked less than impressed with his presence.

“An interview on the news,” He stated as if they got those offers all the time. She glanced up at his reflection as she applied her false lashes, nodding for him to continue. “Local news is bombing, said they want to interview the leaders of the “gangs” going public to give us a platform that won’t cause mass panic.”

“Only old people watch the news. They’d be the only one’s panicking.” She returned to her unimpressed expression.

“All the other groups said no,” He didn’t miss the slight fall in her face. “Your friends don’t seem interested in doing things professionally, as usual. Heard the interviewer was a young guy though, so was wondering if you’d go do it.” She took a deep breath as she threw her celestial-tinted hair over her shoulder, turning to face him as she ran a hand down his arm.

“And what would the significance of me going be?”

“Oh, you know,” Lotor rose, taking Allura up with him. “Slip on one of those nice dresses you have, bat these falsies a few times,” He smirked she rolled her eyes. “Do your thing. Take the interview for your own.  _ Our  _ own.” She sighed as she removed herself from him, walking over to her window before glancing at her closet.

“Fine,” She relaxed her stance as she sat on her bed, watching her mannerisms as she turned back towards him. “Give me tips on what to say. I can work a crowd but I’m sure you have some ideas.”

“Of course.” He took her hand, and only the moon would know what was said before the public got a taste.


	3. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was this a spotlight for the "gangs", or a target placing itself on Keith's back?

The Next Morning-

Keith wouldn’t consider himself lonely, but he did see himself as a loner. It made him a good wingman, though, and he almost wished Axca was here right now so he could work his magic to score her yet another date. She had a thing for girls who seemed to be into makeup just as much as she was, and the girl sitting in front of him fit that amongst his roommate's other preferences. She had eyes as blue as the sea, with a teal brightness that almost seemed fake. They could have been contacts, but he didn’t have the balls to ask. Her dark-caramel skin was complimented well by long white hair that rested over her shoulder in curls, her chin pointed so sharply that one could argue it resembled an elfs. She wore a dark blue dress that hugged her body in all the right ways, evidence that she was trying way harder than she needed to for a local news station. He didn’t understand it, but yet again it was a topic he wouldn’t bring up. He promised himself to stay on topic and get this over with as soon as possible so he could go home and scream into a pillow, and he wasn’t about to break that. He almost didn’t show up, but after a promising phone call of a job opportunity crept its way into his voicemails, he found himself digging out a decent black dress shirt and red tie from the back of his closet and showing up at the crack of dawn. The woman he was to interview had been accompanied by a man that looked equally as nice with matching white hair, but he stood off to the side, staring at Keith sternly and keeping his words short and quiet when addressed by crew members.

He wondered who was the true boss of whatever group was about to introduce themselves.

He told himself to research the dilemma, but instead he fell asleep surrounded by containers of ice cream and Red flopped on his face. All he could say was that he was proud makeup existed as he had to cover up a scratch or two as well as make his skin flawless for the cameras. He didn’t care for his public image too much, but he took any opportunity he could get to wear eyeliner and mascara and ran with it. He could tell the girl noticed, and didn’t miss the slight smile as everyone finished setting up to go live.

“We’re on in two.” The cameraman check his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. Everyone was nervous, as this was the first big break the network had caught in what felt like a millennia, but the fact an intern like Keith as at the head of it caused a lot more worry than necessary. Keith ran through the list of questions on his sketchbook one last time, memorizing their relevance by the amount of stars Axca had put next to them in lipstick. Most were generic and boring, but it was obvious they wanted him to keep a conversation with the girl, not grill or pull out anything important.

What was the point then?

“I never got your name.” Keith whispered, feeling like he should have some knowledge before the whole city could see them. He kept finding his eyes trailing to her company off camera, however, as the white-haired man kept his jaw clenched and golden gaze diverted from his own violet eyes.

“You’ll find out soon, and then I’ll find out yours too!” She nodded, her smile twitching.

“I feel like we should know beforehand though, ease some of the awkward tension. I’m Kei--”

“Save it for the cameras! Also, keep your focus on me,” Allura ran a manicured nail down Keith’s jaw, tilting his head until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Don’t worry about the grump in the corner. He’s like a reject _Twilight_ actor. Just look at me!” They both shared a laugh as the voice of another crewmember cut in.

“3...2..-”

“Thanks Ryou. Hi everyone, I’m Keith Kogane. I’m sitting here live with one of the proclaimed “gang leaders”, Mrs…” He drowned his voice out as he waited for Allura to continue, but all he got instead was her crossing her legs, straightening her posture, and grazing her heel across his calf. Then he got his continuation with the bat of an eye.

“Ms,” She corrected, the sweet voice she used just a moment before replaced with one rich with conviction. “Not a Mrs. I’m self-made. _Ms._ Allura Altea.”

“Nice to meet you Allura,” If Axca were watching, Keith thought she was probably losing her mind at this girl’s name and appearance. “So, seeing as you claim yourself as one of the “leaders”, care to share what’s been going on with your “gang” lately, as well as in general?” It only became apparent after he finished that he was in fact using real air quotes with his fingers on live television. He mentally kicked himself as Allura snorted at his blush.

“For one thing, I’m not one of the leaders. I’m more of a representative,” She flipped her hair to the other side as he stared at her, dumbfounded. “Moving on, what’s with the air quotes?” She smiled as he went bright red. “I’m kidding. Come on though, where’s the honesty hiding behind those? You wanted this to run in a comforting atmosphere. We can’t be comfortable if we’re not trusting. You want me to be honest? You be honest too.” She uncrossed her legs, bouncing her heels on the bar below her seat. He bit his tongue as he started to pick on why they sent a representative instead of one of the leaders here; Representatives of any occupation are trained to handle damage control, turning the tide in their favor.

She was here to _run_ the interview.

“Makes sense why they sent you then,” He retorted, earning an eyebrow raise from Allura and a cough from a crew member. “You’re too good looking to be a gang leader.” She almost laughed herself out of her chair as her eyes went wide.

“Ah, so looks signify what your occupation is these days?” Her accent seemed to come out more and more the stronger her control spread. “That can’t be true. If it was, there’s no way you’d be sitting here interviewing me right now! I’d be seeing you on _Calvin Klein_ billboard!” He kicked himself for handing her the keys she longed for as he sat there, a stiff tomato. “Or working for our “gang”.” She mimicked his air quotes.

“Working for you?” He snorted, cooling his face off as he sat up straight. “I’m not really the gang type if that’s what you really do.” He then noticed she had had enough of the pleasantries, as she gave him a look that meant business.

“Alright,” She sighed as she stood from her chair, beelining for the camera and pulling it’s lens up to give her a full frontal. “Enough of these formalities. Yes, people, there are gangs in this city that are going public. Why wouldn’t we? More and more of the scum of the city are coming to us clinging for purpose because their city abandoned them. You minimalist fucks left your own people to rot in a steampunk underground so why wouldn’t they rebel! This is LA! A live-action movie taking place every day!” She waved her hands in the air, amusing the stoic man she came with in the corner. “We aren’t like what the term “gang” would have you assume however. I’d consider us armed businesses. That fight for clientele. Nothing more, nothing less. So if that sounds like your shindig, find a casting call for our shit and let us give you a purpose!” The camera was jerked back into place as she went to walk off, but caught a glimpse of Keith grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back into the frame.

“You say we. How many are there?”

“Three. The town’s barely big enough to handle that, so no one try to create new ones.” She ran a hand through her hair and sat back down as the man in the back grunted, clearly troubled by her outburst though it amused him. Keith grit his teeth at how much trouble this was going to get him in, but the show had to go on.

“Seeing as you consider them armed businesses that are also going public, I’m assuming you could give us a summary of what each one is about?”

“Finally! True relevance!” She flashed a relieved smile as she pulled herself together, inhaling as if a lengthy story was coming. “Now, one of them has a legitimate business that isn’t a cover up, so I won’t give you their real name. Let’s just say they use dishes to make or break you--”

“Like they throw plates?” Keith thought it was a valid question, but as everyone in the room sighed in unison, he realized he was the odd man out.

“Yes. They throw your mother’s finest china at each other and hope the shards graze an artery, “An eye roll to pause. “Christ! Anyway, one of them owns a chain gun stores and has the best aim you’ll ever see, and ours is an escort business.”

“Got a name for yours?” Keith was sick of the vague talk. He just wanted to go home.

“Galra.”

“So you’ll out yourself but not the others?”

“We may fight for clientele, but technically if we were doing anything _illegal_ we’d all be caught by now. We aren’t true enemies of each other,” Her gaze faltered for a moment at the word enemies. “Anyway, are there any more questions? Because truthfully this went over very differently in my head.”

“I could say the same thing.” Keith snorted as he flipped through his notepad, nothing appealing to him. “Where are the other leaders or representatives? Just curious.”

“We were the only ones contacted.” She stared at him like he should know better. It _was_ his interview after all.

“Huh.” He thought aloud, and both sat there as if the cameras were already turned off.

“Is that an issue?” She pursed her lips, batting an eyelid as she crossed her legs again. “You act like you don’t like what you see.” And with a slight wink, her whole demeanor faltered as Keith sat there, unaffected.

“Flirting with your interviewer?” Keith rose a brow, eyeing her up and down. "I don’t date escorts.” He could feel the white-haired man’s golden glare on him.

“I highly doubt you’d be able to afford my rates.” Allura clenched her fists in her lap.

“But I appreciate someone who contributes to their own business.” They both glared at each other as a voice cut into Keith’s ear; _This is riveting and all Keith, but we’d like a little more information, not just accusations, flirting, and tension._ “Anyway, our time’s almost up. Is there anything you’d like to say pertaining to the gangs or armed businesses or in anything in general?”

“I won’t be arrested for being honest, right?” Her aura perked up at her own question.

“I’d assume no-”

“Just kidding! I have enough money to pay them away.” She looked dead in the camera again. “Everyone watching this looking for some juicy gang story to tell the tabloids or looking for a gang to join is an idiot. Come work for the Galra if you’re pretty, we’re always looking for mindless recruits.” And with that, Allura stood, whipping her hair around her as she strutted off the set.

“We’re done here.” The silent man finally spoke, hovering a hand behind Allura as he led her towards the exit.

“Thanks for nothing!” Keith called after them as they left the set, leaving a confused crew and an irritated intern to clean up the mess the _Galra_ created. Keith ran a hand through his bangs and wandered over to the catering table, retrieving his phone hidden behind a stack of plates as he felt the rapid vibrations from a flood of notifications. Scoldings, congratulations, a sad-face emoji from a number he didn’t recognize. It was a lot for him, especially because he felt like he didn’t get the answers he wanted, let alone any substance at all. He decided to dawn on that another time though, as a text from Axca confirmed he had to head back to their apartment to listen to her fangirl over the femme fatale he had the pleasure of witnessing in front of a camera. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, oblivious to the eyes that remained on him even after the cameras stopped rolling.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What _was_ that?” Lotor asked, exasperated as he tried to keep up with the rapidly clicking heels of Allura as she sped towards their ride home. The question seemed to come about at the wrong time, however, as the next thing he met was her back into his chest as she stopped abruptly before he could react.

“What was _that?_ ” She turned so fast her hair whipped him in the face.  “That was a trainwreck!”

“You _think?_ ” He scoffed as he flicked a strand of her hair off his jacket.

“No, I _know_. And it was destined to be one the second that interviewer sat down!” Allura stormed over to the passengers side, glaring at Lotor over the roof of their vehicle.

“And what makes you say that?” He asked as he approached the door, bracing himself for her inevitable explosion.

“Because he was _gay_ , Lotor,” She revealed through gritted teeth. “No straight male could do a subtle winged eyeliner as clean as he did. _You_ should have done the interview and it would have went in our favor, no doubt.” They both threw themselves into the car in unison, slamming their doors and staring out at the skyline as they processed what they had done.

_"Great."_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Meanwhile - The First Audience_

Chopping vegetables in preparation for his next catering gig, Hunk Garrett wiped his brow as he waited in anticipation for the news to return from commercial break. Sure, he watched the news every day as ambience to his cooking, but it was a segment airing today in particular that peaked his interest; something he never thought would happen. His anticipation was nothing in comparison to the lanky man in front of him, however, who was almost bouncing out of his shoes in excitement or nervousness. He couldn’t tell.

“How much longer?” The man whined, sitting on the counter Hunk was working on and glancing at the TV that sat mounted above the wine vault in Hunk’s commercial kitchen.

“Two minutes now. You asked a minute ago.” Hunk didn’t even look up from his work as the man sighed, lounging himself across the counter.

“Why do I care so much?” The man asked aloud, his ocean-blue eyes scattering his gaze along the tiled ceiling. He tried to pull his mind off his fear of the interview that was coming, but he couldn’t.

“I keep asking myself the same thing. We both have businesses and lives, so whatever Lotor says shouldn’t matter, yet here we are!” He swept the chopped vegetables into a tupperware bin and tightened the lid, pulling out a seran-wrapped bowl of dough and kneading it. That enough seemed to shut the lounger up for a moment, until the commercial break ended, both sets of eyes flying towards the screen. The anchors welcomed the viewers back, smiles and professionalism until they passed the attention over to the interview, the tension and confusion obvious to the viewers looking for it.

Clearly the lanky man was, because at the sight of the interviewer and guest, he shot up, hitting his head on an overhead dish rack.

“Shit!” He held his head and froze, taking in the scene on the screen.

“Jesus, Lance--”

“Shut up.” It was like the man was mesmerized, his hands now at his sides and his gaze locked on the screen as Hunk carried on his chef duties while he watched. He was shocked that Lotor had let _Allura_ , his right hand and their former friend, take his place for this, but didn’t care too much as he listened in. He cracked some jokes at some of Allura’s explanations, sighed at the interviewer’s questions, and managed to shape almost three dozen rolls before he finally looked back up, frowning in concern for the cuban man frozen in front of him.

“Lance?”

“He said his name was _Keith Kogane_ , right?” Lance’s face didn’t leave the TV, the question almost lost in the air.

“That’s all you got out of what’s going on right now?”

“He _said_ his name was _Keith Kogane_ , _right?_ ” It was like there was a robot in front of Hunk who couldn’t say anything rather than that specific question.

“Yeah, why?” He pondered the name for a moment, letting it run through his brain until he had an _ah-ha_ moment. “ _Kogane!_ Wasn’t that your weapon manufacturer when you were just starting out? Everyone loved him!” He didn’t miss the way Lance swallowed hard, refusing to look at him as he nodded slowly. “Sad what happened though. Also weird his kid would end up doing something like _this._ ” He gestured a floured hand in the air while Lance began wringing his hands. “Looks about our age. Wonder why he didn’t inherit the legacy--”

“I gotta go.” Lance jerked off the counter abruptly, fishing in his jacket pockets for his keys as he started to walk out without another word.

“You just got here!” Hunk tried in a friendly tone, but once he realized his friend hadn’t stopped walking and was two seconds from the exit he stomped over, hand on the lock as he turned Lance to face him. “ _Hey,_ ” More sternly. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I had plans,” Lance tried to lie, keeping his gaze on anything but his concerned best friend in front of him. “Plans with Shiro. I gotta go--”

“You haven’t talked to Shiro in _weeks_. You know how they are. What’s really wrong? Something to do with that guy?” Lance’s face was telling, but pressing the issue was something Hunk knew better than to do.

“I said I had to go!” And with that Lance squirmed his way out, leaving the cheerful samoan almost dazed in confusion as the afternoon breeze filled his kitchen through the swinging door.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_The Second Audience-_

She knew the interview was a big mistake. Hell, everyone did, but no one told the Galra what to do, because they never had to answer for their actions ever. Ever.

Yet she still cleaned their messes up, despite being enemies. She cleaned up everyone’s messes. If she weren’t so young, you could consider her “#1 Gang Mom.” Moms were _supposed_ to be compassionate though; caring. She didn’t consider herself either openly, but the second her eyes hit the screen, she knew that fact would be tested _immediately._

She had been monitoring a large sum of police cameras in the area as she played the news on a screen in the back, legs crossed in her chair with a jug of iced coffee resting in her lap. She almost knocked it onto the ground as she jerked forward in horror at the sight of just who was on the screen.

_“Thanks Ryou. Hi everyone, I’m Keith Kogane. I’m sitting here live with one of the proclaimed “gang leaders”, Mrs…”_

She was out of her chair in an instant, a thousand questions running through her mind as she navigated the underground tunnels to make her way to the only room that mattered in that moment. She almost tripped over a rat into the door that she had to get though, only to run face first into it as it was locked. She quickly pulled herself together and growled, banging on it as she called to the inevitable mess that was inside.

“Shiro!” She demanded, debating kicking it down herself as she pounded harder. “Shiro open up!” She felt herself grow more and more frustrated, dare say concerned as she didn’t receive a response. “Turn it off at least!” As she heard the interview still playing from behind the door to the sound of silence, she felt something in her tick as she removed her glasses, standing on her tiptoes to hold them up to the iris recognition software attached to each door in the hideout. She hit a button on the side of the frames to have Shiro’s eyes glaze over the lenses and after a moment the door opened, the short genius barreling in to find the one called Shiro shaking on his couch, head in his hands as he continued to listen to the scene unfold on the TV.

“Shit, shit, _shit--_ ”

“Shiro-” She tried, but almost cowered in the corner as the man shot up and turned towards her, his structure doubling hers as he stormed over.

“Was this a set up for him?” He all-but-barked at her, his eyes red from what could only be assumed as crying. “Did the Galra find out about him and pull this stunt to drag him out? What do you know?”

“I don’t know--” She stuttered, intimidated by the raging animal in her face.

“How do you _not_ know?” He balked, his cybernetic arm pulsing energy through it as his rage continued to rise. She already knew what she was going to have to do to calm him down, but she still tried to reason. “You’re _Pidge_ for fucks sake, you know everything about anything!”

“I keep an eye on the Galra just like everyone else, but as far as I could tell they had nothing to do with it. You know they just crave a spotlight!” She shot back, causing him to raise his brows and take a step back. “Now if it was a set up from some internal structure at the station, who knows, but it seems like it’s totally coincidental--”

“There’s no way it’s coincidental.” Shiro shook his head, his eyes fluttering back to the screen every so often to take in the black-clad interviewer whose violet eyes could intoxicate anyone who looked at them a certain way--

“ _Shiro,_ ” He felt a hand on his flesh forearm that pulled him back to reality. “Even if it’s not, I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s kept himself out of harm’s way for this long, I’m sure he can manage.”

“That’s only because he didn’t _know._ ” She gave him a skeptical look as she watched his demeanor change from angry to worried. A calmer version of what she walked into.

“And you’re sure about that?”

“If he had any idea, do you think he’d be sitting in that chair right now?” She tried not to feel irritated at her logic being questioned, but she could only imagine how he was feeling.

“He probably wouldn’t be _here_ with you either.” She couldn’t stop herself from the low blow, but she knew he wouldn’t retort. He only sighed and wiped his eyes, wandering back over to the TV to get one last look at the interviewer before the shot was cut off.

_“Three. The town’s barely big enough to handle that, so no one try to create new ones.”_

It was almost amusing how Allura decided not to mention how there were more than three. There were four established, but who was counting? Only Pidge knew how many there truly were. She knew everything there was to know about each of them, besides this debacle. The stragglers who created a “gang” to rob gas stations, the elitists who would rather be call “syndicates”, it was much larger than this measly news station decided to publish.

More than even Allura knew.

 _“Keith.”_ It was longing and amazement all in one word. A word he breathed, but one she didn’t hear. She was occupied with something else.

“Shiro?” Her voice chirped.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Matt?”


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's makin' his way downtown, Lance is mad, Coran is sad, we stan Axca (du-du-du-du-du-du-du)

After managing to make it a block without checking his still-vibrating phone, Keith finally put it in his _ left  _ pocket and took a good look around him, realizing how silent the city remained despite the clusterfuck he just took part in. No one seemed to care, but was that really surprising? No one in LA cared about anything but themselves.

So when a pair of hands yanked him off the sidewalk and into an alley near his apartment building, his first thought was if there were any witnesses to his soon-to be-kidnapping.

“What the f-!”

“Don’t scream, I’m not going to hurt you.”  _ Reassuring _ , he thought, as one of the hands was pressed on his mouth and moving him further into the alley. The grip was weak, one he could probably fight out of, but seeing as he was being taken by a scrawny individual, he wondered if another motive was present. As soon as they stopped moving he elbowed the guy in the stomach, diving under clasping arms to shove the alley-dweller into the brick wall. 

“What do you  _ want? _ ” He snarled as the man heaved from the blow, almost resting against the wall instead of trying to fight Keith’s arm off his throat.

“What makes you think I want anything from you?” He watched as the guy pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, his light-brown eyes wandering back towards the street as if he was waiting for backup.

“I can’t say normal people drag others off the sidewalk in broad daylight,” Keith didn’t falter as the man sighed, eyeing him up and down before he raised his hands in resignation. “So either you want something from me, or planned to somehow pickpocket me. You don’t look like an idiot who would try to murder me at this hour.” Keith almost faltered as the guy smiled at his compliment.

“I’m not, but I know a few who are.” and before Keith could look away, the man managed to tap the side of his glasses, the lenses flipping and flashing a blinding light that threw Keith off balance.

“Shit!” His grip loosened, hands flying to his eyes as he stumbled back towards the opposite wall.

“What did I say about screaming?” The man folded his arms, running a hair through his honey brown hair as he wanted for Keith to get himself together. 

“It’s a natural reaction to being blinded!” Keith blinked a few times before he managed to stand back up, the cleared daze making him realize he had a few inches on the guy. Why wasn’t he fighting back? He could break this kid.

“I see that look in your eye,” The man smirked, tapping Keith’s cheek in amusement. “I’m not here to fight you either. That would be like trying to pick a fight with a panther,” He took a second to laugh at his own joke before he continued. “Anyway, I’m just here to warn you to watch your back after that stunt you got thrown into today.”

“And who are  _ you _ to warn  _ me? _ ” It’s not like anyone gave a shit who he was. Who watched the news anymore?

“A friend of a friend. That’s all you need to know.” The guy couldn’t have picked a better time to be vague.

“I don’t have many. I’d appreciate you being a little more specific,” He chewed the inside of his cheek as the man almost smiled at his ignorance. “If anything, why’d they feel the need to send you to warn me?”

“They didn’t send me per say,” He rose a finger to his chin in thought. Keith almost gagged at how much this guy looked like a modern day _Harry Potter_. “I came on my own accord as a precaution. You do realize how many sets of eyes are on you now that you talked to Allura, right?” Keith’s brows rose at the mention of the Galra rep.

“So you’re one of  the Galra?” He asked, flinching as the man flat-out spazzed in laughter. “I have a friend in a gang I don’t know about?”

“God no, I’d kill myself before joining that gang of  _ Gucci _ hoarders,” He straightened his glasses again before he straightened his posture. “They did say there were three though. Perhaps I’m from another, or just an informed observer. Whichever you think is best to go with.” Keith rolled his eyes and sighed, tired of talking to this wackjob in an alley.

“Well thanks for the “warning” I guess--”

“Back at it again with the air quotes,  _ Kogane? _ ” He almost drew a fist at the way the man said his last name as if the interview wasn’t the first time he’d heard it.

“Fuck off.” And with that Keith headed home, leaving the weirdo to dwell in his own social-awkwardness.

He hadn’t noticed his phone suddenly resting in his  _ right  _ pocket.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Usually when Lance entered any room, the party started. This time was the one exception. As he kicked open the door to their HQ, he heard a familiar song start to play that caused his insides to boil in rage even more.

“Not now, Spykid 23!” He spat, the music pausing as Lance marched himself upstairs to the only room that mattered in that moment. He heard a snort follow him, his feet trailed all the way to the door.

“Would it kill you to learn a name or two?” He heard a feminine voice chirp behind him. One he almost wished he didn’t have as his highest position behind his right hand man. “I get you thought calling them  _ Spykids _ would be funny and fitting to your whole “secret sniper squad” agenda, but sheesh, it’s a little demeaning when you spit it at them--”

“Do you ever shut up?” Lance groaned as all it took was one knock for the door to slide open, a disapproving look from a taller, older man waiting behind it.

“Do you ever try to respect a woman?” The older man shot back as the three of them filed into the room, the soundproof door locking behind them.

“I don’t respect anyone.” He ran a hand down his face and nudged himself into the room. “Anyway, shit, fuck, god--” He lifted up one of the boxes on the desk behind him and threw it across the room, the older man shifting his gaze to the woman as Lance threw a one-man shitfit.

“Besides being a disrespectful hot mess,” He gestured to the crying man on the floor. “What’s his problem?”

“The interview, I’m assuming,” She walked over to the wall of monitors they had, a saved recording of the newscast from earlier that morning replaying. “Clearly you were watching it. Don’t you get what the problem is?”

“If I understood, dear,” The older man curled the tip of his moustache around his finger. “I wouldn’t have asked.” The woman studied him for a moment before walking over to the rolling fetus on the floor, giving him a sharp kick to the side causing him to flop like a fish.

“Ow! What gives?” He stopped moving to hold his side, his whining over-exaggerated more than usual.

“You never told Coran about what we did?”

“What did we do?” Lance could never feign innocence well. 

“Gee, I don’t know. How did we establish ourselves this large? This successful? Who’s guns are we selling, _ Tirador-- _ ” Coran felt himself age ten years as he watched the two younger individuals bicker over something he didn’t understand. He was just here to put his grandchildren through college.

He wasn’t an idiot though, and he managed to put two and two together to an extent. He walked over to the monitor and unmuted the interview, listening to the banter again.

_ “I’m Keith Kogane--” _

_ “Who’s guns are we selling, Tirador?” _

“Ezor,” Coran called out if only to silence the arguing still going on behind him. He swore he heard a punch thrown as well. “Does all this frustration have something to do with that interviewer’s last name being Kogane?” He felt the tension in the air diminish as both Ezor and Lance froze, wide-eyed as Coran turned back around to look at them. “What?”

“You know about Kogane?” Lance barely breathed out as Coran almost looked cautious to admit it.

“The famous crime lawyer?” Coran frowned at the sighs of relief, then return of panic from the other two. “Who doesn’t? That man kept LA on it’s feet for god knows how long--”

“You really think he was a lawyer?” Ezor cackled as Lance jumped to his feet, shoving her in the process. “Coran, that was just a cover-business for what he really did--”

“Which doesn’t matter because he’s dead--”

“Yeah, because you killed him-!”

“Ezor!” Both of the young individuals were back on the floor tussling in an instant as Coran’s mind scrambled to process the exchange of words. They weren’t ready to feel themselves both be lifted by their collars to meet the blazing periwinkle eyes of the enraged older man.

“Where’d this strength come from, bony--” Lance tried to quip, but Coran was having  _ none _ of it.

“ _ You _ killed Texas Kogane?” The ferocity in Coran’s voice caused Ezor to bite her lips to keep them shut. Lance had been given the look he was staring at before, and he swore himself he’d never let anyone look at him like that again. He swallowed hard, his obnoxious demeanor gone at the clench of a fist.

“Yeah, what of it?” He wrangled himself out of Coran’s grip so they were toe-to-toe, yanking Ezor down with him.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Coran was exasperated. “What did he do to deserve that? What business was he covering up? I don’t--”

“He had  _ guns _ . He had territory. He had money. It shouldn’t be that hard of a problem to solve.”

“And with your aim and family, I’d assume you had connections with him supplying you enough--” Lance shoved him back at the mention of his family. A line no one dared to cross.

“Sure, it was enough to  _ live. _ But I wanted to live  _ lavishly.  _ You’re a brave one for even bringing up the f-word though. You sure you want to go there?”

“You sure you want to threaten the only reason you’re still afloat?” At this point Ezor skittered out of the room, leaving Lance and Coran to their testosterone tango. “I may be too old for you to trust out on the field, but I’m the only one who actually gives a damn about the people you recruited to  _ work _ , and make sure they  _ have _ work so they don’t sell you out.”

“And how high am I going to have to raise your pay grade so you don’t go snitching about good ol’ Kogane?” Their gazes were enough to snipe each other at this point. It would be a miracle if either made it out alive.

But of course, Coran was the bigger man. Literally and figuratively. He sighed and rested against the desk, almost giving a sympathetic look to the angered Cuban in front of him.

“You won’t. You pay me generously as is,” And he deserved it, but he’d never flaunt that in front of his boss. He had years on the kid, but the kid had experience and charisma he’d never be able to match. “I just don’t understand how you, a then  _ 16 year old _ , had enough motivation to pull a stunt like that. What did you do, go in and kill him in his office? Burn it down? I did always wonder how they ruled a warehouse fire a “suicidal action”--”

“It was my 17th birthday, thank you. And for someone who didn’t know about his underground weapon manufacturing sting, you sure know a lot about his case.”

“I met him a few times in passing. Don’t forget I have a background in law,” Which was how Lance kept his ass off the radar, which he seemed to always forget. Coran learned to let nothing phase him with this boy. “However, the past is the past. I guess I’m just surprised you started doing what you’re best at so young,” With the amount of shit Coran had seen in the system as a state attorney, he just assumed Lance was one of those individuals who killed to survive, protect his assets. However, it appeared he had another side Coran didn’t feel the need to get involved in. “Why are you all worked up though? I get the interviewer had the same last name, but don’t you think it could be coincidental--”

“Does Kogane sound like a common last name to you?” Lance had calmed his resolve to the point where he could lean back against the wall and focus on the man in front of him.

The man he kept in the shadows because he never thought he’d have to open that decade old door again.

“No, but Texas never brought up having a child--”

“That’s his son,” Lance directed a finger at the monitor behind Coran. “Keith. Trust me.” It was like saying his name cursed him enough.

“You say as if you’re completely certain.” Lance sometimes hated how Coran spoke. His word choice fit his accent.

“I found out he had a son  _ that  _ day.” That was all Lance had to say for Coran to stop pushing. He didn’t want to know anymore than he found out. He didn’t wake up that morning expecting a tragedy to reappear.

“So it is,” He started, turning back towards the screen to the camera completely on Allura. The lost one. “And say it isn’t coincidental. What plan is running through that sharp mind of yours?” 

“That’s a conversation for another time,” Lance then stripped his jacket so only a tight grey shirt graced his torso, checking the time on his phone. “Right now, I have to go apologize to Hunk for storming out on him earlier, then prepare to go bar-recruiting with him tonight--”

“Does Hunk know about--” Coran paused at the look Lance gave him. “No? Apologies. I’ll let it go. But do you really think tonight’s a good night to go recruiting?”

“I have reason to think after that whole debacle,” He waved his phone towards the monitor. “I’ll get more than I can deal with if people are smart enough to know what to look for.” He shrugged as Coran rolled his eyes, the charming smile returning to both of their faces.

“Just be smart about it.” Coran nodded as the door opened, Lance waving him off with a careless nod.

“Always am!” Lance called back as he walked back down the hall.

“No you aren’t, but that’s why I’m here.” The last thing Coran saw before the door closed was two middle fingers directed at him.

He was left to dwell on all the information he had received.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Coming home to the sight of Axca all dolled up and ready to hit the club scene was almost a daily occurrence for Keith, but what made this sight stand out amongst the rest was the armful of clothes she was holding as soon as he walked through the door.

“Clean out your closet?” He tried, but as soon as the garments hit his face, his cologne drowned all his senses and he knew she coated his clothes for a reason.

“Like I’d wear something so,” She gestured a manicured hand up and down. “ _ Keith. _ ” Despite her Navy hair, she opted to wear a bright red pantsuit to accompany her cherry lipstick. A bold statement for a dive bar but those were the only one’s either of them entertained. At least, that’s what the agreement  _ was. _

“Yet you’d wear that to a bar.”

“We’re not going to a bar,” She moaned as he started to get dressed, not caring that he had an audience. “We’re going to  _ the _ bar.”

“Which  _ bar _ would this be?” He smelled like an _ Aeropostale _ , so it couldn’t be the shack down the street they loved.

“The one the  _ Galra _ are known to hang at!” Keith almost dropped his belt as he squinted his eyes in her direction. “I heard people by the landlord’s office talking about it when I went out earlier. We  _ have  _ to go.”

“I had a feeling you’d like Allura.” He said her name so casually one would think he knew her.

“I wouldn’t dress like this if I didn’t!” She twirled as he finished getting ready, hearing his phone still vibrating on the table by the door and startling him.

“That thing been blowing up all day?” She asked as she helped him touch up his subtle eyeliner. She tried to put mascara on but he flinched and felt for his phone, almost jumping when his eyes hit the tiny screen. 

“The hell?” He almost dropped the thing as he watched it’s black screen blink a word in green.

Moreso, a phrase;

_ V0ltr0n.exe. _

“What is it?” Before he could show her Axca took the phone from him, frowning when all she saw was a wall of notifications.

“It’s just tweets at you and texts from Iverson. What’s wrong with this?” She turned the phone back around to show Keith, who just stared at her dumbfounded. 

“That’s not what I saw!”

“What did you see then?” He knew she was optimistic about everything he claimed, but even he couldn’t explain this.

“My screen was just black, and there was a blinking green word.” He scrolled through his notifications, seeing if there was any sign for the mysterious word.

“What was the word?” He could tell she was more eager to leave than listen.

“Voltron?” They both pondered the meaning and shrugged.

“Maybe just a new update or something,” Even she knew how dumb of an excuse that was. But who cares! There was an attractive girl no doubt hanging at the nicest bar in the city and they had to get to it. “We’ll dwell on it later. Can we just go already? Maybe take your bike?”

“You want to take my crotch rocket to some fancy ass bar we won’t fit in at?”

“It’ll help us stand out even more.” She smirked as she ran a finger through his collar before walking both of them out the door, leaving no room for him to argue.


	5. Mix n' Mingle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberry Daquiri's and First Meetings.  
> Lance knows how to make an entrance.  
> DRUG USE IMPLIED/MENTIONED IN THIS CHAPTER.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering everyone's starting to get mentioned, I figured I'd make an age list for you all to clear up any present/future confusion!
> 
> Relevant Age Range:  
> Pidge - 18  
> Shiro - 30  
> Lance - 26  
> Keith - 26  
> Hunk - 28  
> Matt - 30  
> Allura - 28  
> Coran - A dinosaur he's just older leave it w/ that
> 
> Gasolina lyrics mentioned in the chapter are from:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9BIX9akkh4
> 
> (Let me know if I need to correct anything!)

After apologizing for storming out through three voicemails and ten texts, Lance found himself next to his best friend standing in front of the most prestigious bar on their side of LA. They usually didn’t try to recruit here, for the scene was too  _ Galra  _ for them. But considering every scum of the earth and their mother would be present after the word got out Allura would be in attendance, the place seemed busier than ever. 

“Are you sure  _ we _ even belong here?” Hunk asked, playing with the gold band on his finger. Something he did when he was nervous. A gentle hand pressed against his to stop him, a soft smile coming into view.

“After all these years, you’re still so insecure.” Lance tried not to roll his eyes as Hunk’s wife, Shay, brought him back to reality and shared a kiss. They were so in love it physically hurt him to witness it.

“If you’re both done.” He coughed, the spykid he brought stumbling up to him carrying a tiny boombox.

“Done being gushy, yeah? Because I’m ready to party!” Shay threw her hands in the hair, the tight navy blue dress she was wearing hugging her all the right ways. Hunk was lucky; she was a good soul and a good sight.

“Did you really bring a boombox?” Hunk nodded towards the spykid trailing their footsteps, head down to avoid attention.

“You know how I enter any public place.”

“As if anyone’s going to hear it over the ambience inside.”

“You think the rich snobs play anything but classical music?” Lance snorted as he straightened the black blazer he put on over his grey t-shirt. “Just trust me.” The bouncer at the entrance nodded as they approached, allowing them through except the spykid holding the boombox.

“Why do you need to bring that in with you?” The spykid only shrugged, Lance turning to notice the holdup and groaning.

“I need it for an entrance,” He whined towards the bouncer, who rolled his eyes as Lance whipped out the strongest pair of puppy-dog eyes the older man had ever seen. “I’ll only have it out for like five minutes. Promise. I just need to make them know of my arr--”

“I stopped caring after entrance,” The bouncer elbowed the spykid through the door, the line of people waiting to get in cheering at the holdup resolving itself. As the four of them made their way through the hall towards the actual bar scene, it looked exactly as they expected; Black, white, gold-encrusted, clearly a money drain that was all appearance, no fun.

The bar wasn’t ready for when the spykid hit play.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were only two times in his life where Keith witnessed what society calls “cliques”; High School, and at the Garrison University. Both institutions full of youth, both institutions crawling with hormone-driven puberty monsters. The societal setup made sense there.

Now, where did it not make sense? A high-end bar they currently were standing in. 

“We can leave, you know.” He murmured to Axca, both standing stunned at the entrance to the dance floor. Well, it was built to be a dance floor, but it appeared it was more of a talking square. People were separated into groups so obvious one would think it was an organized event. There were what Keith could only describe as geeks on one end, older-pristine individuals on the other. Raging youth looking as lost as them, an apparent  _ Alcoholics Anonymous _ meeting, the separation had it all.

But why?

“No,” He watched Axca strain her neck looking for who she came for. “We’re staying until she shows up. I didn’t dress this vibrant for nothing.” For a bar so heavily interiored with neutrals and gold embroidery, one could argue she dressed vibrantly just to stand out. Like it was hard in here.

“Can we at least get a drink then?” There were two bars opposite of each other in the room, one’s bottles bright and fluorescent, one’s selections more old school.

He knew which one they’d usually choose.

He knew which one she was going to drag him to.

And so, there they sat at the glowing bar, sipping on strawberry daiquiris as the space seemed to condense and space themselves to the tune of  what he swore was a horrendous rendition of Beethoven.

Who drank and mingled to this music? 

Clearly he wasn’t the only one questioning that, because the next thing he knew he heard the beginning of an all-too-familiar song that repeated itself on his workout playlist.

_ “Da-ddy Yan-kee!” _

Heads turned in waves, the spacious crowd seeming to spread even thinner as a tall, lanky individual maneuvered his way through the crowd with a suave that kept Keith’s eyes locked on him the whole walk to the dancefloor. Axca didn’t miss the awe seeping through his pores.

_ “Zumbale el mambo pa’ q mis gatas prendan los motores,” _

The ocean blue eyes of the man showed nothing but determination as the song increased in volume, his body alerting the crowd he was there to dance and give a production that clearly didn’t belong here. The tightness of his shirt showed he dressed in his normal attire, the blazer he was taking off only worn to fit his way through the door. He felt Acxa elbow him off the barstool, but also knocked his third drink over because they were both lightweights. It was a recipe for disaster.

“Go dance with him,” She giggled in Keith’s ear, a rush of alcohol-induced confidence running through his veins at the idea. “You know you want to.”

“I also know I can’t dance--”

“I know you take dance classes at the gym. You can’t lift for shit. _ Go. _ ” And as the crowd started trying to dance to the beat, it was obvious what crowds were clearly there for this man. He had to be a regular by people’s faces. A lot seemed shocked at the audacity for his entrance, but some seemed overly accepting; they saw this all the time. The man was in the middle of everyone, the two people he walked in with off to the side head-bobbing while holding hands. Even the man holding the boombox seemed to be vibing, and with every step closer to the circle of people he felt himself get more and more into the groove.

Nothing compared to the tan man in the middle though. He sang every word with such grace and seemed to be moving to draw eyes, not to have fun.

He succeeded when it came to Keith, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. He was usually so shy! He didn’t approach guys! But clearly Acxa and the rum in him had other plans.

The plan being that as soon as he heard the first  _ Gasolina  _ sang, he elbowed his way through the frontline of the crowd vibing with the tall man, tripping over a heel and landing right into said dancer’s arms.

Classic.

“Shit!” He cried under his breath, the feeling of embarrassment drowned out by his inhibited senses. The man didn’t even seem to care though. He caught him and kept moving as if it was apart of the dance. “I’m so--”

_ “Como le encanta la gasolina.” _ The man continued singing as if Keith didn’t even fall into his personal space. He helped Keith up without looking at him, moving with him until Keith looked up into those eyes he’d been following the whole time.

Only then did the man pause.

“Holy--” The song kept playing, the people kept dancing, but it was like time froze as the man looked into Keith’s glazed over eyes, almost freezing completely but quickly snapping back into it.

“I could say the same about you.” Keith smirked, but he knew his words were slurred. God, he probably looked like such an idiot right now, but the man wouldn’t let him go. 

He didn’t want to be let go.

And if only to get over the freezing phase the man pulled Keith closer, rocking their hips together with his arms around Keith’s neck. They moved in a way that sober Keith would be embarrassed by in public, but it felt  _ right. _ Keith didn’t miss the wide-eyed looks from the people the man walked in with, but he was too drunk to care.

He was just here for a good time. Everyone was. The boombox he brought was better than anything these people had to endure!

Though good times must not last long here, because the song was stopped abruptly to a sea of groans.

“Well well,” A familiar accent rang throughout the venue, a bartender almost dropping a glass. “I’m glad everyone found their way to our little hub, but who brought the music?” The way she asked it was in a knowing fashion. Keith glanced over to see Allura leaning against the man with a boombox, her accomplice with long white hair hovering behind her. The lanky man’s arms didn’t move as he glanced over, shrugging as he feigned a grin in innocence.

“I’ve told you numerous times you need to learn some taste in music,” The man quipped, nodding for the man to turn the boombox back on. “Continue. She really doesn’t care. The grumpy giant behind her might, though.’ Her accomplice snarled at the man on Keith as they both disappeared in the crowd, a new spanish song playing as the club started to vibe again. The man wasn’t as vibrant this time, however, as he kept his gaze off Keith as Keith tried to talk to him.

“What did you say?” He finally looked down after the fifth time of Keith trying to get his attention.

“I asked who you were, and said my name’s Keith--” The man visibly swallowed hard and rose his brows in an instant, dropping his arms and pausing his movements.

“I need a drink.” Was all he said as he bolted off the floor, the man he came with approaching Keith with an apologetic smile. He heard Axca approach from behind him as well, a sloppy arm around his shoulders as the friend began to speak.

“Sorry about him, he goes from overly friendly to awkwardly shy in two seconds flat.”

“I wouldn’t call dodging my introduction for a drink  _ awkwardly shy _ , but alright.” 

“Aw, so you guys didn’t exchange names? Damn!” Axca pouted as she pointed in the direction he had left. “Let’s go after him!” 

“Probably not a smart idea,” The giant man in front of him put an arm out, “However, I can introduce you to his friends. Embarrass him even more. Come on!” Axca took the man’s hand without hesitation, dragging Keith off the floor without asking. They swam their way through the ocean of people until they reached a few roped off areas towards the back, two giants guarding one in particular that was bubbling with laughter. Keith glanced over to the bar closest to the spot and noticed his dance partner was missing, leaving him to question if he really went to get a drink at all. Was Keith that bad?

That unattractive?

It was the makeup, wasn’t it?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ When was the last time he was that up-close-and-personal with a guy who wore makeup? _

_ Why was that eyeliner so clean? _

_ How did that mascara manage to bring out those violet eyes so attractively--- _

_ Lance paced in the bathroom as he smacked his cheek, trying to hype himself up as he wiped his nose and cleaned the counter of any evidence. _

_ God knows he needed this after that dance.  _

_ That moment. _

_ He felt alive, but not on his terms.  _

_ He couldn’t have that. _

_ Now he did, through methods his friends didn’t agree with. _

_ Like he cared. _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


Keith sighed to himself as the friend guided them past the giants, a familiar face in his sights once again as the rope was removed for them.

“Keith? I thought that was you on the floor!” Allura threw her hands in the air, another blonde woman next to her smiling in his direction as the golden-eyed accomplice just nodded. Their guide took a seat next to the blonde, wrapping an arm around her as Allura threw herself at Keith, hugging him then pausing to take in Axca’s attire. “And who’s this?” Keith turned to see Axca blushing as red as her pantsuit.

“This is Axca,” He coughed as clouds of perfume drowned him, diving sideways to put some space between them. “She’s shy.”

“She’s not shy,” Allura snorted, moving a stray hair out of Axca’s face. “I can tell! Just in awe of me. Did you dress yourself up for me?” Axca just stuttered, her composure failing due to the alcohol still bubbling in her system. “Don’t worry dear, you aren’t the only one. Definitely one of the better looking ones I’ve seen!” Allura winked, and Keith thought Axca was going to fall over from being lovestruck. “Come, come. You both should probably sit. I could smell the rum from behind the guards. We need more!” There were three couches surrounding a table, Allura sitting them on the one to the left as she sat on the right, her accomplice stretching before looking Keith directly in the eye. 

Keith had seen a look like that before.

It had been awhile, so his best idea was to divert his attention elsewhere.

“So,” The lanky man’s friend spoke up before the white haired man could. “I did say I’d introduce you to embarrass La--”

“The _ Tirador de primera _ ,” He was interrupted by the girl on his arm. She had bright hazel eyes and a calm smile. She screamed family and compassion. “Obviously not his real name, but he doesn’t like sharing that information, if you don’t mind.

“Of course.” Keith wondered if that’s why the man dipped. He noticed his absence and glanced around the area, not seeing a sign of him anywhere.

“Anyway,” The larger man rolled his eyes, putting a hand to his chest as Axca rested her head on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m Hunk, and this is my wife Shay,” They bumped heads affectionately, which would make Keith smile if he wasn’t wasted. “And these two,” Allura had been mid-way snapping her fingers to get two bottles of champagne brought to them, flashing a smile at the waiter as Hunk continued. “Are Allura and Lotor.”  _ Lotor. _

Keith wondered how authentic that name was.

“Nice to meet you all,” Keith nodded as Axca grabbed two glasses, downing both of them without as much of a thought to offer Keith one. As Keith went to grab one for himself, however, a gasp from Shay made him pause.

“Jesus La-- _ Tirador!  _ You look like you got hit by a truck!” She stood to help Tirador get in, but he waved her off before stepping in, giving her a strange look as his gaze didn’t falter.

“Why the hell are you calling me Tirador---” He then looked down to see Keith and Axca on the couch to the left of him, groaning obnoxiously. “Are you kidding me? Why are they here?’

“Nice to meet you too, asshole.” Axca quipped, earning a smirk from Allura as she elbowed Lotor to give up his spot. Keith noticed Lotor kept looking at him, and the more he drank the more  _ okay _ he was with it. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted your name out there--”

“Who’s he gonna tell?” Tirador gestured his hand up and down at Keith’s dark appearance. “You think he gets out often? Look at him!” Shay glared at his disrespect, Hunk sighing in understanding. Tirador then looked directly into Keith’s eyes, pulling his chin up to make sure their gazes didn’t leave each other. “I’m never going to see you again, so the name’s Lance. You should probably kick rocks, pal.”

“Lance!” Allura gasped as Lotor rose, pushing Lance into his spot as he approached Keith and knelt down.

“I do apologize for his rudeness,” His voice was a low rumble in Keith’s ear. “But we do have some serious matters to attend to so perhaps it is a good idea for you two to leave.” Keith’s eyebrows rose at the implication, eyes roaming each friendly face to find a conclusion.

“You’re all the “armed businesse-!” Shay sighed a smile as the rest rolled their eyes.

“Time to go!” Lance snapped at him, shooing him away as the guards turned to escort the bright pair out. Lotor shook his head as they prepared to pounce, however, suggesting he walk them out himself.

“Come then.” Axca put her hand out to take Lotor’s, immediately pulling it back when she realized he was holding a hand out for  _ Keith. _

She didn’t miss the glare on Lance’s face as Keith took it with drunken grace.

“He’d take your hand if you weren’t such a di--” A guard guided her out as Lotor walked Keith with them, Allura watching the whole way out.

“You not going to walk that girl out?” Shay teased as Allura sat back, Lance taking a long drink straight from the champagne bottle.

“I’ll see her again.” Allura shrugged as she continued to chatter with Shay, leaving Hunk to watch Lance with a glint of worry in his eyes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Keith didn’t go home that night. _

_ Lotor never went back to the bar. _

_ Axca caught a cab after witnessing the sloppiest most uncomfortable makeout session she’d ever seen between two men whose appearances were so opposite it was like watching a spiraling Yin-Yang symbol. _

_ White hair on black, black clothing on white. _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ V0ltr0n.exe…99% downloaded. _

Matt chewed on his thumbnail as he watched his phone screen show a bar slowly but surely filling, the virus almost completely taking over Keith’s phone.

The dark brunette was so oblivious it almost hurt Matt to do it. His jeans were so tight, how did he not feel him take his phone? He chuckled to himself as he walked back into his room, only to find it wasn’t occupied. He shared it with another hacker, for they were truly the brains of this operation, but usually the second hacker never left the room.

No one even knew they existed, except for their parents, of course.

Matt quickly spun on his heels to the first room he thought to look, only to find the door left open a crack to a scene inside he had a feeling he shouldn’t have left.

“You act like Matt and I ever see the light of day!”

“He goes out sometimes, maybe you should try it--”

“I’m only this intelligent because I  _ stay _ in my quarters, unlike everyone else around here--”

“What are you, a gremlin?”

“Shiro-!”

“Dare I ask what this is about?” He smirked as the smaller of the two arguing beamed in his direction.

“Matt!” They jumped off the couch, clutching to his body as if he rose from the dead.

“Y’know Pidge, loses her mind everytime we go outside.” Shiro winked at him before turning his attention back to the TV, the news playing to his dismay.

He knew he should have told Shiro his intention before he went out, but he didn’t have time. 

“Where’d you go?” Pidge asked, eager as ever. She had the charm and energy of an 18 year old, but nevertheless expressed a personality of an elderly woman.

“Can you go make us some coffee? I’ll come explain in a minute,” He pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose as she eyed him skeptically. Shiro even turned around, and as Matt nodded in his direction, Pidge could only guess what was going to happen.

“Alright. I’m making it black though!” She teased as she wandered out, mimicking the middle finger Matt was giving her. 

“Gotta love the superior sibling-hacker combo,” Shiro quipped, turning the TV off and giving his full attention to Matt. “So,--”

“I put a tracker on his phone.” Was all Matt had to say to make Shiro’s eyes widen, his lip trembling slightly.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching him since the beginning of time, just like you asked, but Shiro, he’s out there now. I’m sure Katie was in here because you were panicking about it. We gotta keep stronger tabs on him just like everyone else.” He’d like to say he felt sympathetic towards Shiro and Keith, but at the end of the day this was just his job. Did he have access to everything on Keith’s phone and location? Yes. Should he feel bad about it, considering Keith was just a civilian? No, considering he had a gut feeling he wouldn’t  _ just _ be a civilian for much longer.

“And? He okay?”

“I haven’t put it into the database yet, but I’m sure after all that he’s probably just out drinking with his roommate. I’ll look it up and get back to you,” With a satisfied look on Shiro’s face Matt took his leave, heading to the Kitchen to find Pidge sitting on the counter with a mug larger than her hand.

“So?” She had the same tone as Shiro.

“Dumbass didn’t use a stage name like a smart person,” Matt ground out as he poured a mug for himself. “So now we have to keep stronger tabs on him.”

“Haven’t you always been watching over him because Shiro asked you to?” Pidge asked, swinging her legs like a child. 

Matt always wondered how she would have been like if she didn’t follow in his footsteps.

“Casually, but only because Shiro always thought he had a sixth sense so I had to be cautious.” Matt rolled his eyes at the pride he remembered in Shiro’s eyes as he told him that. “Yet that’s bullshit, because I’ve seen this kid walk into the same telephone like six times looking straight ahead.”

“Funny that same incident is how Shiro almost lost an eye,” It was the first time Pidge built a cybernetic eye prototype. “It’s a wonder they didn’t work out,” They both paused in fear Shiro heard that quip, sighing in relief at no retort. “So now he’s on our list besides Lance, Hunk, Allura, Coran and Lotor?”

“Yep.” 

Which Matt didn’t exactly confirm using software yet, but as he heard the sound of steel toe boots marching into the kitchen, he knew someone else did.

“He’s at Lotor’s fucking house!” That caused Pidge and his faces to fall instantly.

_ “What?” _

“You said you put a tracker on his phone, right?” With shaky hands Matt lifted his phone, tapping a button to confirm Shiro’s cry.

“Y-Yeah.”

“He can’t be there.” Shiro’s arm had a dim glow as he angrily stomped through the halls, grabbing a jacket and heading for the exit.

“Shiro!” Pidge tried, but Matt was already up and after him. Matt wished he worked out with Shiro more as he chased him through the tunnels, finally catching up when Shiro paused and groaned.

His arm had shocked him. 

Matt cautiously grabbed the prosthetic and put a hand on Shiro’s flesh shoulder, directing him to look at him and reason.

“You can’t go get him, Shiro,” There were tears in Shiro’s eyes. “What are you going to do, show up after five years and not only expose yourself, but us too?” The Galra were the only gang group that didn’t know about the operation they were running, despite an insider having an idea, but Keith couldn’t be there. He couldn’t be one of them!

“He  _ can’t _ be there.” Shiro repeated through gritted teeth. “He can’t, he can’t--” Matt could tell his mind was falling into relapse.

“Okay, okay,” Matt pat his shoulder. “I’ll have Hunk go get him. Or someone else. He’s going to get out of there, okay?” Matt could tell from one look that Shiro needed to go get through the relapse on his own, and traveled back to the kitchen to find it empty. He then wandered back to the shared workroom to find Pidge on the phone already.

“Can you just trust that it’s important Keith gets out of there ASAP, please?” She groaned as Hunk’s face appeared on a hovering screen, concern all over his face.

“I won’t press, just find it suspicious,” Hunk was reserved like that. “I have a catering gig in a few hours, so I can’t. I’ll make sure he gets out of there, though. Okay?” And with that they hung up, leaving Pidge and Matt to share glances that one could say resembled Hunk’s.

Hunk’s when he watched Lance in the bar earlier that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance "I need a drink" McClain more like Lance "I need a hit" McShit
> 
> I'm sorry i did this to the boy I love you all it will be okay


	6. All Eyes on Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith had a wild night.  
> It was nothing compared to what he was going to get into next.

The night was a blur, but what left Keith more confused was the noise that woke him up the following morning.

He registered movement, along with swearing in a language he couldn’t understand.

“You know they’re both sleeping right?” An accent. “No need to curse in a language _I_ don’t even understand.” An accent he _knew._

“Should have let me teach you when I offered.” That voice.

_No way._

“The idea of spending any more one-on-one time with you other than this car ride _repulses_ me.” Keith’s vision cleared as he noticed he was in the back of a Jeep Wrangler that had no doors on nor a roof over their head. His body was haphazardly slung over the seats, as if he was just thrown into the back with a loose seat belt.

“You couldn’t have at least kept the back doors on in case I fell out?” He quipped, not caring who was in the front despite his ideas.

“I put both seat belts around you, yes?” He looked up to see Allura glancing back at him, observing her strapping job and giving an accepting shrug. “It’s LA traffic, not like Lance is going to punch 30 and throw you out.” She gave a nervous laugh that said otherwise, but her stern eyes instilled a soft spot of confidence. Keith glanced over to the driver, their eyes meeting in the rear view mirror for a brief moment before Lance grunted, keeping his eyes on the road without as much of a word.

“I wish he would,” Keith snorted as he felt for his phone. It was in his pocket, along with the keys to his bike. _Shit._ “My bike--”

“I’ll make sure it gets back to you,” Allura assured, pushing her curls back behind her ear. “Aren’t you more concerned as to why you’re in a vehicle with us instead of in _bed_ with Lotor?” That sentence was enough to wake Keith up completely. He knew he met Allura’s group of people last night, but putting names to faces was a tad challenging considering how fargone he was.

“I slept with _Lotor?_ ” Keith’s cheeks were red while he eyed his rumpled shirt, his blazer buttoned incorrectly as he heard a noise of one could say envy come from the front.

And it sure as hell wasn't a female making the noise.

He ignored it for now while Allura’s laugh kicked in.

“God, I came in and thought an animal had been let loose in the room! How was it?” Keith glanced between the two before putting his head in his hands, sighing.

“We’re not talking about this,” He groaned as he pulled out his phone to check the time.

_8:30am._

Shit.

Iverson had texted him a handful of times but he wasn’t in the headspace to read them. Axca hadn’t tried to contact him, but she was probably passed out on their couch. He looked up again to notice they were on a highway into town, for which was slight relief.

“Am I being kidnapped or can you take me home?”

“Lance wanted to dump you on a corner, but I figured the blazing heat would wake you up eventually,” Despite her prissyness, Allura genuinely seemed like a good person. Or a really good actor. Keith couldn’t tell. “Where do you live, dear?”

“Uh,” He stuttered aloud, checking the time again if only to stall. “You can just drop me at the network building, I’m almost late anyway.” He looked and felt like he got hit by a truck, but he figured the files he was going to skim through all day wouldn’t care.

“Is Iverson texting you?” Allura practically hissed, snatching his phone out before tapping a response to the chain of texts. How’d she even get in that fast? Was his code that predictable? “I already talked to him and he’s giving you the day off,” She paused, her eyes lingering on the screen a second too long before she reluctantly handed the phone back. “Told them you’re hanging with me to get the inside scoop, but honestly I think you need to stay home and rest.” Keith wondered how she managed to swing that on his behalf, but decided no one could tell this girl no. Not even him.

“Well thank you,” He nodded, eyeing his phone cautiously. “But you can just drop me there anyway. I live a walk away. It’s fine-”

“Just tell us where you fucking live before I do punch it and throw you out,” Lance grounded out, his eyes glaring through the mirror as his grip on the wheel tightened. “We’re taking you directly there.”

“Maybe I want you to throw me out so I can just walk hom-Ah!” Keith grabbed onto the frame of the Jeep as Lance punched the gas, the car jerking forward throwing Keith off the seat. He coughed and caught himself before he managed to be thrown out.

“Address?” Allura said as sweetly as she could, Lance’s laugh almost drowning her out.

“Just turn right up here and go all the way down the road, building--” He rolled his eyes at their glances. “ _Apartment_ building is on the right.”

“All you had to say in the first place.” Allura quipped, her attention on her phone the rest of the ride while Lance resumed his timid, silent demeanor. Keith kept his eyes on his surroundings, enjoying how bright the city looked under the sun. It was nothing compared to the nightlife, but it brought him a sense of serenity he needed after god knows what happened the night before.

Did he really go to a Galra’s house? It was probably elaborate and an architect's dream, yet he couldn’t remember any of it. Only that he apparently met all the armed business leaders, and ironically they seemed to be as bizarre as he was. The car coming to a stop pulled him out of his trance, his body almost falling out again before Allura’s manicured hand grabbed his wrist.

“Can you make it upstairs?”

“If not, my roommate will come find me,” He stepped out, stumbling a few feet before finding his grounding. “Thanks. Just bring the bike here at some point, yeah?” The only answer he got was a thumbs up before the Jeep sped off, leaving Keith to crawl up the stairs himself. It was times like this he regretted choosing the 5th floor as the best option for both of them! After a few minutes of tripping and holding onto rails for dear life, he managed to make it to their front door, only to find he wasn’t the only one to struggle walking last night.

“I’m glad you made it back.” Axca grumbled, her voice muffled by the hallway carpet.

“How long have you been laying here?” Keith asked, taking a seat next to her as he fished for the apartment key.

“Overnight. You’d think someone would ask if I needed help,” She ran a hand through her hair, her makeup smeared all down her arm. “Or at least check to see if I was alive.”

“They’re probably used to us showing up like this.” They didn’t have alcohol or party problems, but they did go out a lot. It was all there was to do this side of town. Everyone in the building had moments like this weekly. Keith struggled to get to his feet, opening the door and letting Red nudge at Axca’s head as he took his blazer off, unbuttoning his shirt before he finally helped her into the room.

“I look like a rotten tomato,” She whined aloud, grabbing bottles of water for both of them before the two dropped themselves on the couch. “Why’d you let me go out looking like a tomato in the first place! I was a stop sign in that bar!”

“Which drew eyes. That’s not a bad thing.” He took a long drink as he felt his phone vibrate, internally groaning as he glanced down at it. It was an unknown number, the text short and sweet;

_**Give the red rose this number, and be careful what you do on that phone of yours. K? Much love. <3** _

“If you say so.”

“I mean,” He showed Axca the message, her brow raising at the implication. “Allura’s referring to you as a red rose. Clearly she liked it.”

“How do you know it’s her?” He didn’t, but she did take an awfully long time to text Iverson back earlier. He could only assume.

“Text it and find out.” And so Axca did, and that was that.

\--------------------------------------------------------

“You _slept_ with the interviewer?”

“To be fair, Allura was the one who introduced him to all of us. I just wanted to hook up there, but things happened and--”

“Do you _know_ who that _kid_ is?” Lotor winced as his mother, Haggar, hissed, her eyes glaring so strongly he may as well be in a torture chamber.

“Some Korean with a nice bod-Hey!” Lotor cowered as Haggar smacked him over the head with a rolled up magazine.

“No, you imbecile!” She threw her hands in the air, pacing their dining room in a _Versace_ gown. “That’s Keith Kogane. _Kogane!_ Don’t you know that last name?” At Lotor’s unimpressed face, Haggar fell back into her chair, sighing. “This is why we recruited Allura. You never paid attention to anything we taught you!”

“Because I inherited this shitshow, never really wanted i--”

“He’s the son of Texas Kogane. The weapon manufacturer.” She watched as instead of realization gracing Lotor’s face, a look of amazement followed by a laughing outburst taking the place instead.

“Really? Oh my god!” He was holding his stomach, almost falling out of the chair to Haggar’s displeasure. “How do you know this?”

“It was always rumored along the community that he had a son, he had a look to him that screamed family man.” Haggar struggled, her long nails tapping a pattern on her desk. “However, we also had an _insider_ reveal that a long time ago. I wonder if that informant knows that he’s deeper than he should be now.”

“ _Please._ He’s going to go to work and forget any of this happened.”

“So you’re saying you’re forgettable in bed?” Haggar smiled at the redding of Lotor’s cheeks.

“Mother!”

“Someone has to check your ego, as well as your logic,” Haggar unrolled the magazine, mindlessly flipping through the pages. “Now go do something productive. Keep an eye on him.”

“Who cares? If he had any involvement with his father’s work, we would have known already. He seems like an oblivious young adult trying to have a writing career-”

“You’d know if you did the damn interview instead of Allura, you’d get a different vibe.”

Tired of arguing, Lotor just shrugged and walked off.

He only pondered a moment how right she could have been.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week went by as normal, Keith not thinking too much about anything while Axca was texting Allura nonstop. She was sucked in. Head over heels. Even hung out with her a few times in person.

Sadly for Keith, the only time he saw someone of interest was when he was in the gym, a certain song appearing on his playlist taking him back to the best night he’d had in a long time. He heard Lance’s voice singing along to Gasolina, and almost fell off the treadmill. Almost fell in the dance studio. Almost fell on the street. He couldn’t stop thinking about the eccentric lifeline on the dancefloor versus the spiteful jackass in the VIP section and the Jeep. It was like he was living in the moment, then when the moment ended he forgot he even enjoyed life.

He also started to feel like there were eyes on him at all times. Sure, a few people associated him with Allura, so they commented on how the interview went and asked him for updates, as well as complimenting how pretty he was. But he had a feeling it wasn’t just casual civilians watching him as he walked to work. As he walked to bars. As he walked to art museums. He felt like he was being stalked.

Of course he was, but Matt made sure _his_ sights were never detected. He noticed how clumsy Keith started to be. He noticed how Keith always seemed to be checking behind him. He noticed how Keith started to google things like “Tirador de primera definition”, “sharpshooter gang LA”, “gun store chains near me”. Keith was onto something, and Matt didn’t know what to think. He noticed how Axca, figured to be Keith’s roommate, was caught with Allur a few times in public, and decided now was the time to tell Shiro his concerns.

However, it seemed that Shiro beat him to it.

“I have to reveal myself to Keith.” Shiro said abruptly over breakfast one day, the few gang mates not in the inner circle leaving the room as Matt and Pidge stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Are you _insane?_ ” Pidge slammed her hand on the table, causing her coffee mug to quake. “No! After all the work I’ve done to keep _both_ of us under wraps--”

“What did Lance say?” Matt’s question shut her up.

“What?”

“I know you went to see Lance earlier. He texted you. _What happened?_ ”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_“I know we don’t talk much, but think you can spare an hour for lunch at Hunk’s cafe? Would appreciate it! - Tiradaddy ;)”_ **

Shiro would never understand why Lance ended all his texts in “-Tiradaddy ;)”, but he found himself in front of Hunk’s cafe anyway. It wasn’t enough to stop him.

As if anything could stop him. He needed a break from his head. It was blinding him a lot lately. He walked in to Shay’s shocked expression, followed by a smile as she nodded towards the back. She was busy with the phones for catering while trying to box cupcakes for a customer. He quickly exchanged pleasantries and headed back, ignoring the strange looks to his prosthetic as he managed to find the Cuban he was looking for lounging over a booth.

“When you said spare an hour, I didn’t think it was so we could lounge around a _working_ establishment,” He folded his arms as he gestured to Lance’s lack of awareness to the people around him. “Straighten up a bit.”

“Yes, _dad_ ,” Lance groaned as Shiro took a seat, clasping hands before they both gave each other an expecting glance. “So, uh, how ya been?”

“If you really cared, we’d see each other more.”

“Not my fault your gang decided to be “underground hackermanz”!--to quote your printed explanation,” Lance joked as he took a sip of water, waving a waitress over to bring Shiro a glass. “But fine, I’ve been good, I’m sure you’ve been good, but there is a problem I wanted to talk to you about.”

“As there always is when any of you want to talk to me.” Shiro, despite being the frontman of an underground operation, was still everyone in the inner circle’s “dad” friend. They always went for him for help, all except Lotor, and respected him despite their differences in affairs and handling situations.

“Always so smart. Something up your ass too?” Lance frowned as he folded his arms, leaning back into the booth.

“You know something always is,” Shiro sighed, straightening himself before folding his arms on the table. “But you also know I’m all ears. What’s up?” Lance’s face then softened, a look of internal conflict on his face that brought a protective itch upon Shiro.

“It’s about that Keith guy,” He spoke so softly Shiro almost missed it. It took everything in him not to lose his stoic expression as Lance continued. “Do you think you could ask Pidge to keep an eye on him?” Lance glanced around the room, flinching as if eyes were on them. Shiro took a second to realize no one was watching, and Lance was, well, doing what Lance does.

What Lance _did._

He bit his tongue not to comment on how hypersensitive Lance seemed to be as he returned his attention to the topic of the conversation.

“Why?” He asked, which was the same thing Matt said when Shiro asked him to long ago. “I mean, why do you care about him?”

“I have my reasons,” Lance closed in on himself, not meeting Shiro’s eye as his gaze shifted to Shiro’s metal arm. “For one, I just don’t think he’s safe.” He didn’t miss the arm tense.

“How so?” His protective side came all the way out for a guy neither knew.

“I’ve been by his place a few times since I took him home from Lotor’s,” Lance played with a toothpick between his teeth, finally having the courage to look Shiro in the eye as he spoke. “Something just seems off. I feel like there’s eyes on him already, and I’d assume they weren’t yours because you all don’t have a reason to worry about him.”

“And you do?”

“I run a gun business, man,” Lance said it so nonchalantly it almost seemed like a front. Something he rehearsed to say.  “Kogane was a powerful dude. Wouldn’t put it past his son to take me over--”

“Is that why you were a prick to him when you met him?” Shiro had to hide the envy in his voice as he continued to pock. “Why you danced like there was no tomorrow with him to drop him five minutes later?”

“Jesus, did you have eyes there too?” Lance groaned, his cheeks flushing a light pink as he covered his face.

“No, Hunk and I just have “concerned dad chats” sometimes,” Shiro smiled softly as he took a sip of his water. “Regardless, I wouldn’t sweat that Kogane. He has no involvement in what Texas did.”

“How are you so sure?” Lance didn’t miss how casually Shiro said Keith’s last name. Like it wasn’t foreign to him. If he was in his right mind, he’d have the clue to question it.

He didn’t.

“I just am.” Shiro had to kick himself for getting so defensive. Hell, if he knew Keith was going to be the hot topic, he would have done something to keep himself together too.

“Alright, alright,” Lance put his hands up in resignation. “No need to be harsh. There a reason you’re so defensive of him? Friend or something?”

“There a reason why you care so much?” Shiro shot back, both of them surprised at the harshness from the two. “You’re the one who decided to avoid him. Hunk and Allura are at least trying to make an effort to befriend him. All our bullshit’s put a lot on him since that network decided to put him on air--”

“Which is why I want him _watched_ . The main reason I asked you to _come_ here.” Lance talked down to Shiro, who was visibly about to crack.

“So you’re worried for his well being then.” Shiro deadpanned, causing Lance to jump.

_“What?”_

“You implied you wanted him watched to protect your business, but now you’re saying he should be watched because he has a lot of eyes on him already as well as guilty-by-association threats for being caught with the Galra-”

“I just worry in general!” Shiro could feel Lance’s resolve breaking. _Something_ else was there. “You know how I am.” He considered being honest about his own concerns with Keith, but something told him now wasn’t the time.

“I do. So why don’t you just take him under your wing?” Shiro shrugged as if that wasn’t the worst thing he had ever suggested. Lance looked him up and down before kicking him in the shin, the larger almost-cyborg not flinching at all.

“Are you even human anymore? What did Pidge do to you?” Lance hissed as he reached for his foot, which was met with metal plating when he kicked Shiro. “Whatever. Why would I take him under my wing? I bet that kid’s never even touched a gun if what you’re saying about his zero involvement is true.”

“Then wouldn’t learning how to from the _Tirador de primera_ himself be the best experience he could get?” Shiro winked as Lance groaned at the name.

“I almost want to kick my 17 year old self in the teeth for making that a thing,” Lance was tapping his fingers on the tabletop repeatedly, trying to keep himself occupied while holding the conversation. “But of course. Feed my ego so you don’t have to take him in yourself.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Shiro shot back immediately, the force of his words causing Lance to squeak in surprise.

“Why not?”

“I just _couldn’t_ , okay?” Shiro’s patience quickly vanished, his eyes flying to the clock on the wall before he stood, quickly stretching before he took his sunglasses out from his pocket.

“Okay?” Lance remained frozen, taking in how timid his friend was acting.

“We’ll keep an eye on him, but I’m serious, having him in the Tirador is probably the best thing for him right now,” Shiro glanced over to see Shay half-listening, a frown on her face in concern as Shiro quickly walked out without another word.

She gave Lance a bag with two blueberry muffins and sent him off.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you want to reveal yourself to Keith because Lance seems to have some sporadic interest in his well being?” Pidge used her pointer fingers to try and connect the dots.

“Basically,” Shiro acted as if that wasn’t the most obvious act of jealousy he could do. “It just baffles me. You said Hunk mentioned he was being a prick to Keith. Why do a 180 again?”

“Cocaine’s a hell of a drug,” Matt quipped to two sets of glares. “Low blow. Bad joke. Sorry,” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “But in all seriousness, you sure this isn’t an act of desperation because Keith danced with him? _Approached_ him even in a drunken state?” Shiro set his jaw as Pidge took the que to leave, leaving Matt to fend for himself.

“If I ever thought that Keith and I would have a chance again, I wouldn’t have waited five years.” His voice was so cold. So broken. Matt didn’t know what to think.

“Why’d you seem so insistent on having Lance teach Keith how to shoot a gun, though?” Matt never took social cues well, so pushing the subject came natural to him. “You hid because you didn’t want him involved, now you’re all-but throwing him into the most dangerous group that isn’t us.”

“Please,” Shiro snorted as he contained himself, leaning back against the command board. “Keith already knows how to shoot a gun, he just doesn’t have one. That’s why I want him with Lance. If he’s going to get dragged in he should at least be in a group he can thrive in.”

“And _how_ does he know how to shoot a gun, _Shiro?_ ” Matt inquired to a shit-eating grin he needed to see to assure him his friend was with him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sight of the familiar black crotch rocket gave Lance the burst of confidence he didn’t know he needed as he took in the amount of steps it would take to reach the 5th floor. It may have taken a large bribe he could barely spare of out of pocket followed by twenty minutes of whining, but he managed to get the landlord to tell him which floor Keith Kogane had lived on.

That, and he may have pulled a gun, then used the bribe to keep her from calling the police.

That was in the past now, for in a few swift leaps he managed to scale most of the steps in a rush that came out of nowhere. One would think he was excited, but truthfully nerves were dancing throughout his body. A feeling he’d hope his cure would dull soon.

Did he really pull a gun to find out where Keith lived? Keith, the son of the guy he kille--

He shook his head as he made it to the guy’s front door, taking a deep breath as he clutched the bag of muffins in his hand tightly.

It was the past. He could forget it. He repressed it for almost ten years, what’s a few more?  
He didn't. He thought about what he did time and time again, but this whole situation was only bringing it to the forefront of his long list of problems and concerns. He sighed and in a brief, harsh motion, knocked on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for an answer.

When the door opened, however, he wasn’t greeted by an lined pair of violet eyes.

He was greeted by a dark blue pair scowling at his existence.

“What do _you_ want?” He searched his memory to figure out who she was, and after being blinded by the bright red outfit she decided to wear, he remembered.

“You aren’t Keith.” Was all he got out as the cat in her arms struggled to get out the door. She rolled her eyes and yanked him in by the collar, shutting the door and putting the cat down. “Whoa, I didn’t ask to come in--”

“And I wasn’t letting our cat get out,” She spat back, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she continued to watch him stand awkwardly in their doorway. “But no, I’m not Keith. And he’s not here.” He blinked as he took a look around, sighing as she was the only one here.

“Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“Why do you care?” Axca watched as he gently reached to pet their cat, flinching as Red hissed at him in retort. They raised their cat correctly. “After the way you teased him only to be a disrespectful shit afterward, I don’t think _I_ should even _let_ you near him.”

“You think you can stop me?” Lance snorted as he got up in her face, his height barely an advantage compared to her model-like frame.

“You wanna test that?” When he realized she wasn’t backing down despite the assumption he was armed, he sighed, stepping back and taking her in completely.

“I’m not here to fight, I guess I just came to apologize to him.”

“You guess?”

“Look, I’m not good at this sentimental bullshit. Can you just tell me where he is?” He watched as Axca glanced down at the paper bag in his hand, arms folded.

“If you tell me what’s in the bag.” He subconsciously shook in a few times before remembering why he brought it in the first place.

“Muffins,” He shrugged, shaking it again in her face. “Nothing serious.”

“What kind?”

“Why the hel-”

“What _kind?_ ” She repeated, stepping closer to him.

“Blueberry.” He grumbled, the tension easing immediately as she stepped back, grabbing their cat and opening the door for him again.

“He’s at the gym down the street,” She nudged him out, not even waving him off. “The preppy looking one. He isn’t dancing today though. Think he’s down there sparring with people because he was pissed about something.”

“Thank you?” He didn’t know whether to be impressed that the violet skeleton sparred at all or that she told him so much in a single sentence.

“Blueberry’s his favorite kind.” And with that the door was shut in his face, leaving him to make his way down the street. He could have walked, but he wasn’t trying to talk to Keith in a damn gym. He quickly jumped back into his jeep and rolled on down the street, making it about a block before he made himself a parking spot in front of the preppy-looking gym and huffing it inside. The lights were a little too bright and the ambience too loud for his taste, but it didn’t take long for him to find the mats set up for sparring.

One mat sticking out to him in particular because of the mullet-head dominating it.

_“Hey Kogane!”_ He shouted without thinking, the few people surrounding the spar looking over as he man in calling froze completely. Keith’s sparring partner quickly took advantage of the distraction, only to be swept off his feet onto the mat in one swift motion. “Oh shi-”

“Nice fight.” Was all Keith said as he threw the man a water bottle, grabbing his shirt and bag from the corner of the room and walking up to Keith, the sweat staining his sculpted body distracting Lance from saying anything else.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Keith growled, dressing himself while Lance watched, dumbfounded.

“Uh-” An announcement over the loudspeaker interrupted them.

_“Can the owner of the silver Jeep Wrangler please get your vehicle off the sidewalk? You know how LA people are with their workout routines! People can’t get in!”_

Lance rolled his eyes at how entitled people around here were. He got in just fine! Why couldn’t they?

“Why’s your jeep blocking the entrance? What the hell-”

“Can we start over?” Was all Lance said as he eyed a security guard walking towards him. He’d get to his Jeep in a second! Keith must have noticed how much Lance needed to talk to him because he rolled his eyes, agreeing before the guard could make it to them.

“You gonna need a drink this time?” Keith quipped, drying the sweat off his face with a towel and tossing it before following Lance out to his Jeep, the spastic driver not responding until they were back on the road. Road to where? Keith couldn’t tell.

“Not unless we both share it,” Lance reached behind Keith’s seat and threw a paper bag in his lap, nodding as he threw on a pair of shades as well. “Don’t open that yet. Wait until we get there.”

“What’s this?” Keith shook the bag, unable to tell. It smelled heavenly. “Get where?”

“I thought you’d figure _we_ can’t talk to anyone unless it’s on property we own.” Keith was ashamed at how long it took him to get what Lance met, so he simply nodded.

“That’s funny, because Allura’s been showing Axca off like she’s a Nobel Prize-”

“Well I don’t work like that, so you’ll just have to deal,” Lance was short again. Keith wondered why he even got in the car. “Those are muffins.”

“What kind?” He could feel Lance relax at the question, Keith no longer prying into business he wasn’t apart of.

Yet.

“Blueberry.”

“Cool, that’s my favorite-”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> praise Tiradaddy (I want to punch myself for thinking that up lmao)


	7. V0ltr0n_Sh0t.exe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People always seem more vulnerable under the stars.  
> Vulnerable, yet more aware.

“So, this your favorite place to shoot or something?” Keith asked as they found themselves on a cliff overlooking the, say, _shadier_ part of LA.

“Do I look like someone who hunts people for a living?” Lance may have been, but only to important people. Not the unfortunate individuals who found themselves here. “It’s just a quiet spot. I got here sometimes when I come do--” He stopped himself, ignoring Keith’s glance as he sat on the edge with the bag in his hands. “You sound like your job asking that.”

“To be fair, you’re in a _gang_ and you call yourself the _Tirador de primera_ , so.” Keith shrugged as he tugged the bag open, snatching a muffin before Lance could blink.

Fast reflexes.

“I’m assuming you used _google translate_ to figure out what that meant?” Lance smirked at Keith’s red cheeks, hiding behind the muffin in embarrassment. “It’s okay. I’m sure you aren’t the only one.” He decided to ignore the gang comment, tired of having to explain it to people.

He didn’t kill innocents.

Anymore.

“Not like I had a lot to do all week,” Keith said through a full mouth, eyes out on the darker part of the city. “Never got a report on Allura. Not much to do at the network. Boring life.”

“Then why don’t you do something else?” Lance said almost too eagerly as he started to eat, soul glowing at the taste of the muffin. _Man_ , Shay could bake.

“Jobs don’t just fall out of thin air, Lance,” Keith waved a hand in the air, crumbs falling onto his sweatpants. “Do you think I like working there?”

“I think you’re just doing it for some moral purpose,” Lance admitted, causing Keith to jump. “I mean, there’s no way you _need_ to work, _at all._ Wasn’t your dad some famous lawyer?” Keith didn’t miss how Lance was fumbling with his words, but his dad being mentioned at all distracted him from questioning it. Maybe he was _coming do--wn_ right now.

“Yeah, he was,” Keith started, swallowing hard as he stuffed his muffin wrapper away. “But he represented the “bad guys”,” air quotes again. “Guys like you I guess. And your friends. Sure they paid a lot for him to keep quiet but only so much of it actually came home. Then of course he died--” Lance’s face grew pale as Keith struggled to keep his tears at bay. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Lance. Lance didn’t have time for that-”

“I lost my dad because of this bullshit too,” Lance said so softly that Keith almost missed it because of the crickets chirping around them. “Kind of why I’m here.”

“You took over?” Keith asked, wondering what life would have been like for him if he followed his father’s footsteps into law.

“Sort of forced to,” Lance stood then, walking back to his Jeep as he continued. “Family was in too deep. Needed someone to step up, and my brother was too sick to. He ran back to Cuba, but the rest stayed. Needed a strong head, and I guess that was me.” _Cuba?_

Keith could almost say he was witnessing vulnerability out of the lanky Cuban in front of him, but before he could ask why, he decided to explain more himself. It was only fair, right?

“My mom stepped up for the family,” He mused aloud, causing Lance to pause in his spreading of a blanket on the ground. “Well, for the business side of things. She skipped town afterward. All the assets and info is with her. I just get an allowance to maintain my simple ass life,” He wasn’t broke, but he wasn’t living like these guys clearly were.” He then noticed Lance was frozen in a wide-eyed expression. He looked around, trying to see if anything was amiss before finally snapping a finger in the man’s face. “Lance!”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah! Y-Yeah-” Lance quickly smoothed out the rest of the blanket, throwing himself onto it to land on his back. “Wanna look at the stars?” The evening was setting in, and for how far out they were from the busy side of LA, the stars would be visible this early on. Keith cautiously nodded, laying so there was a giant space between them as he eased back. _“Really?”_

“I’m sorry, I can’t say I feel comfortable cuddling up to a stranger that took me from a gym to drag me out _here_ ,” Keith hissed, his arms stationary at his sides. “Hell, you could be wrapping my body up in this thing,” He tugged on the corner of the blanket. “Like I know--”

“For fuck’s sake,” Lance snorted, almost annoyed. “Do you want me to give you like, an in-depth explanation of what my friends and I do? So you can stop making stupid comments about it?”  Yep. He was starting to act like he did that night after the euphoric moment. Instead of dancing this time, it was sharing muffins. “Also, am I really a _stranger?_ So _open_ with a stranger.”

“I mean _you_ brought _me_ here, so clearly you’ve thought about me as much as I’ve thought about you.” It was like a kick to Lance’s gut. He couldn’t deny it, that’d be rude! And a lie! But he couldn’t admit it. That wouldn’t be right.

“Whatever.” It was admission and denial all in one. Perfect! He stretched his legs out, making an obnoxious effort to graze Keith’s leg with his own as he sighed in relief, sorting thoughts in his mind. “Are you scaring of the gangs?” He asked abruptly, startling the pale form next to him. “Is that why you say stupid shit?” It was quiet for a moment, Keith’s mind lost in the stars above them as he contemplated how to respond.

“If I said yes, would you make fun of me?” His voice was so small. The obliviousness in what his father did so obvious to Lance now he almost wanted to just take Keith home and act like none of this happened.

He was too far into it now. This _wouldn’t_ be the last time they saw each other.

“No,” Lance rested his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “But only because I know what my friends are capable of when it’s _real_ business. Not casual _accidents._ If you catch my drift.”

“That’s reassuring. All of my worry is cured!” Keith threw his hands in the air, still not looking at Lance as he focused on the sky. It was easier than looking into those ocean blues.

He saw them in his mind anyway. And in person, as Lance ran a finger down Keith’s chin before turning his face to look at him.

“Trust me,” His serious tone dawned a deeper voice. Not the goofy, obnoxious one that fit his personality. “ _No one_ has it out for you.” As far as Keith could tell, his worry just changed into curiosity from that single sentence.

_He was pathetic._

“Then who do you all have it out for?”

“Story time!” Back to Lance’s cheerful demeanor. “I won’t bore you with a lengthy story, but in short; rich assholes. Cartel. Mafia. Whoever crosses through here,” Without warning, Lance inched closer, as if anyone was out there to hear them. “We kind of take from and protect LA. Don’t think the government doesn’t know what we do. They don’t care,” Keith wondered why the police weren’t running rampant through the streets ever since that day. “But, if you want an explanation to what every single one of us does, it’s simple.” Lance took a deep breath, Keith finding himself lying on his side to get a better look at his theatrics as he started;

“The least complicated one of us all is Hunk. Hunk owns a catering business, _A Taste of Space--_ ”

“I love them!” Keith interrupted, a hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Yeah, yeah. Who doesn’t. Him and Shay cook like cuisine royalty. Anyway, they own a fully functioning business and cafe, but they also have a separate line of catering for, say, _specific_ clients. To skip any filler, he works as a food poisoner, if that’s a job position. Cooks these extravagant meals that meet his standards, but whoever the target, or targets, is, get’s a special meal just for them,” Keith couldn’t help but smile at Lance’s wicked grin. “Not to scare you off from his actual affairs though. Clearly you’ve survived his catering before. Just don’t go there without me,” Lance winked, continuing. “Now, Allura and Lotor. I’m sure Lotor showed you just _what_ they do--”

“I mean she did say an escort business.”

“Yeah, an escort _assassin_ business.” It seemed like Lance didn’t want to talk about them. “Didn’t you notice how flexible Lotor was--” As he kept making comments to get over something internally.

“You sound like you’ve experienced it as well,” Keith shot back, hoping to shut him up. “I’m not here to reminisce on poor decisions, though. Drop it.”

“I haven’t, I'm just a bit protective.” Lance’s jaw was set.

“Protective of _me?_ ” Keith asked, teasing while genuinely confused.

“No! Just--” He watched the man visibly deflate. “Fuck it, whatever. We’re done with them. Onto me, the best of the four--”

“Four?”

“Three!” Lance’s eyes widened at his slip. “Three!”

_“Four?”_ Keith pressed to a glare.

“Only three. _Don’t_ push it.” Despite how they were slowly gravitating towards each other, their words kept building up walls. Keith just had something it look up later.

“Fine,” Keith grumbled, like a child being told no. Lance wondered if he ever went without getting his way. “Continue. Gloat about yourself to an audience of one.”

“When my dad was in charge, we basically ran drugs throughout California and Nevada. Typical cartel shit. But when he passed, my mom asked for me to get us out. Have us do something else. So now we just do gun trading and the occasional assassination. Hence the name, _The Tirador._ Though our stores sell an assortment of guns, I only teach my men how to snipe. I feel it’s the most effective and least likely to get caught considering we make all our own shit.” Lance spoke so proudly and confidently Keith wondered if anything could break the man in front of him.

“Don’t you call your men _spykids?_ ” Keith teased, a look of alarm falling on Lance’s face.

“How do you know that?” Lance’s worry that this was all a set up slowly crept into his mind faster than he liked.

“Allura told Axca, and the information fell in my lap.” Lance wondered what _else_ Allura had told Axca. “That’s such a shitty movie Lance!”

“It was funny to me when I was a teenager!” Lance pouted, his eyes falling onto the blanket beneath them as he felt a hand card through his hair.

“You could change it at any time. Let those poor people rest without carrying that stupid ass name--”

“You could carry it too, if you want,” Lance choked out, immediately regretting his words as he felt the hand freeze, his hair pulled into a fist. “ _Ow-_ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” Keith removed his hand, his eyes still as wide as the one’s looking at him. “That’s just. What? Me? I-”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Lance sat up then, leaving Keith two inches from his side to lay by himself. When did he move _that_ close? “Don’t worry about it. Ignore it-”

“ _Why_ would you even offer me that?” But it didn’t seem like Keith was denying his request. More baffled by it than anything.

“I mean,” The more Lance talked, the more he realized he was setting himself up failure. To reveal himself.The blinking green light in Keith’s pocket agreed with him. He bit his tongue and looked back towards Keith, contemplating his decisions. “I saw that spar in the gym. Clearly you have some fighting sense. Also, fast reflexes--”

“Had to learn it to survive high school,” Keith snorted, dusting it off his shoulder like it was nothing. “Nothing special.”

“It can be.”

“So the _Tirador de primera_ himself is going to _train_ me--”

“If you keep calling that I’m going to _end_ you.”

“--and make my basic skills mean something?” Lance tried not to roll his eyes at Keith’s theatrics, almost overpowering his. He looked so in awe, but his face screamed he could care less.

“You seem a little too on board with this.” Lance tried to back off, but deep inside he knew he didn’t want to. What he was looking at was too tempting.

“You seemed to offer the position a little too soon.” Keith didn’t seem to mind.

“I guess we’re both making a mistake then.”

“Not like I have anything better to do,” Keith reiterated, his eyes saying something else to Lance. A look he hadn’t seen in a long time. “And clearly you need more people to call _spykids._ So why not?” There was a period of silence after that.

Acceptance.

Something else.

“I’ll tell you _one_ thing about the fourth,” Lance broke the silence, his rambling tone returning as he ran his hand up Keith’s thigh, smirking as Keith shivered at the sudden touch. His movement was slow until he reached Keith’s pocket, a small _aha!_ as he sped up, jerking the phone out of the pocket and waving it in Keith’s face. “They’ve been _listening_ to us this whole time,” He tried to keep it together as Keith looked at him in horror. “Listening to _you_ since god knows when. You know this green light that blinks occasionally?” Lance tapped the light next to the phone’s camera. Keith nodded slowly, the realization melting through him. “V0ltr0n.exe baby. Watch yourself.” Keith snatching the phone from Lance, jerking up and staring down at it in disbelief.

“Do you know what that is?” Keith kept looking at his screen, then back at the apparently-angered Cuban next to him.

“Do _you?_ ” Lance shot back, the green light ceasing it’s blink to blind them both.

“I saw it on my phone screen once in green lettering. Some _Harry Potter_ looking guy tried to talk to me in an alley and it happened after that.” Lance didn’t reply after this, only chewed his lip and nodded in understanding before he threw the phone in the air, quickly slinging a pistol out of his waistband and shooting the overpriced tech before it hit the ground, a million shards in his place.

“What the f-!” Keith screamed, jumping back to avoid getting kit by any tiny shrapnel. Lance only stood and walked over, the remains of the V0ltr0n.exe bug shining green in the moonlight. Keith was still cowering back near the Jeep, Lance kicking himself for overreacting like that.

“Sorry, I do everything big. Thought you’d figure after _Gasolina_ ,” Lance offered a hand to help him up, but was waven off by the shaken beauty on the ground. Keith slowly got up, looking at Lance with a mix of fear and anger.

“This offer come with a new phone?” he asked between gritted teeth, his fists balled if only to keep himself for strangling Lance. Lance only smirked.

“Yes, princess,” He picked up the blanket and bypassed the shorter man. “At some point this week. Stop going to the network, and I’ll meet you at Hunk’s cafe on Monday. Okay?”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.” Keith flipped the little hair he had, throwing himself in the passenger seat and smacking the dashboard as he noticed Lance wasn’t budging. “Take me home?”

“Guess it’s too late to just throw you off.” Lance glared at him, throwing the blanket in the back and sliding into the driver’s seat as he headed back into town, a pair of eyes no longer on them. A pair of ears no longer lingering.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Damnit!” Matt’s fists hit the desk, his headset gone across the room as he heard their connection cut by a bullet. “Lance, you idiot-”_

_“What happened?” Pidge wandered back in, her attention on the Galra’s business expenses. They truly were gang parents._

_“Lance fucking told Keith everything,” Pidge jerked her head in Matt’s direction, almost dropping her coffee mug. “Well, a summary of everything, and then shot Keith’s damn phone because he realized we were in it.”_

_“Shit,” Pidge cursed, her hand in a fist as well. “I mean Shiro did tell him to take Keith in, by why,” Pidge paused, tracking their last known location. “Why were they in the middle of nowhere? Together? What was it, vulnerability hour?”_

_“Keith did tell Lance his mom was still around, as well as the fact she holds all the family’s cards.” Matt was already looking up Keith’s mom, a few moments of digging bringing a name to their attention._

_Krolia Kogane._

_“Any info?”_

_“In a few days, of course.” They were interrupted by a knock in the doorway, their leader leaning against it with a concerned look on his face. As usual._

_“Everything okay?”_

_“Not with you, pal,” Pidge stood in her chair, ignoring it’s continued spinning as she reached eye level with Shiro. “Your ass is dead. Lance is going to kill you. Maybe not now, maybe not later, but he will!”_

_Shiro didn’t need to hear anymore. He glanced over and noticed where the last time Keith’s phone checked in was, nodding slowly to himself._

_“Okay then.” Was all he said before he turned on his heels._

_He wanted Lance to take him in, if only for protection, but he didn’t ask for this._

_He wasn’t okay with this._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_He found himself in a gas station bathroom afterward, growling at any knock on the stall as he found himself using a toilet paper holder as a counter. He didn’t care. He was quick._

_They were fucking listened to._

_Keith was being tracked. By his friends._

_Why? Shiro wouldn’t have worked that fast. He went from Shiro to Keith. There’s no way that breathing cyborg beat him there, tricked Keith into giving him his phone, and left with a virus._

_There was also no way Keith would have met Matt in that short of time as well._

_Something was off. He didn’t like it._

_Keith was his. His problem. Past. Present. Future. His._

_Or, he was being overly possessive and on the verge of breaking, right here in a stall._

_Shiro couldn’t see what he saw. Only hear. Only follow._

_He didn’t see those eyes. Didn’t see that body language. Didn’t feel what Lance did._

_What Lance repressed, using drugs and a hard will to forget those decisions._

_He fucked up in the past. He could make it up now._

_Keith would never know._

_Keith was his._

_Shiro didn’t want to test that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People can change, right? : D


	8. Guns Blazin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance witnesses one of his biggest fears, and Keith relapses into memories close to leaving him.  
> What's good, Shiro?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting somewhere, lads.

To both Keith and Lance’s surprise, everything was going well. One would have thought Keith was a long lost member of the Tirador for how well he fit in. Everyone loved him, and Coran was one of the first to find a light in him that Lance seemed to overlook.

“How’d you manage to convince him to join us?” He asked during one of their meetings, Keith in the a separate room with the other  _ spykids _ dicking around despite the glass walls separating them.

“He’s too pretty to be here.” Ezor commented, her eyes stuck watching Keith wave his hands around as he talked at the front of the other room. Everyone seemed to just _ listen _ to him. His demeanor demanded attention.

“So am I, but here I am,” Lance snorted, flipping through slides on the screen on the front of the room. “So are you, but here you are. Your point?”

“You should ask him out,” Ezor gasped to herself, her red ponytail flipping as she almost shot out of her chair. “We should be talking about _ that! _ Plan a date for you too! Not this bullshi--”

“Forgive me sweetheart,” Coran interrupted before Lance could pop a bullet in the ceiling to release his sudden anger. “But what he’s flipping through is preparations for the biggest inter-group mission of the year. It’s a tad more important than the _endeavors_ he wants to experience with Mr. Kogane.”

“I don’t have _endeavors_ I want to experience with him--” Lance felt his cheeks go hot at both of their accusing gazes. “Whatever! You said this was important, so let’s talk about it!” And so they did, but it was no secret why even Coran commented on the obvious curiosity blooming between the  _ Tirador  _ and the  _ new recruit.  _ All eyes were on the raven-haired interviewer the second he entered their compound for the first time. He was a mess the first few days, clumsy and sloppy with all the attention. After being berated for watching him, however, the eyes eased up, letting Keith show his true potential.

He was better than most of the recruits Lance had in his arsenal.

He didn’t do a whole lot, as Lance wouldn’t let himself assign Keith anything more than simple work. He was still at war with himself, and the last thing he wanted to do was throw this gym fighter out in their real shit. So he did paperwork. Organizing. It was a desk job. A desk job that turned into a getaway driver real quick. A getaway driver job that turned into a diversion driver real quick at the way he managed high speeds.

Lance ended up putting Keith’s janky crotch rocket to use, allowing him to use it to help cause diversions on highways and city streets to allow the Tirador to escape. He weaved through traffic with precision. He used his fists to save himself and others on many occasions. It was like having a reject V0ltr0n.exe fighter on the team, which amused the  _ spykids _ . He was better than them at a lot of things, but after seeing the violet-eyed individual have a close call with a pistol, the other  _ spykids _ knew they had one skill the new recruit didn’t.

A skill Shiro told Lance to give Keith.

A skill Lance forgot to give Keith.

The skill that his gang identified with.

“Shit!” He snapped himself out of a gaze, Ezor and Coran’s looks going from skeptical to knowing as his shout was so loud the  _ spykids  _ in the other room all looked in curiosity. Lance’s eyes immediately looked over to meet Keith’s concerned gaze, both of their cheeks burning pink before Lance hit a button to shut the blinds in both rooms.  _ “Shit.” _

“Something tells me he has a thing for you too.” Ezor looked between rooms, rolling her eyes when blinds flew down to cut off the visuals.

“I mean look at me,” Lance gestured a hand around himself, smirking as Coran shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sure everyone here has at one point or another.”

“Whatever you say,  _ Lotor _ ,” Ezor quipped, sticking her tongue out as Lance threw a folder in her direction. “So,  _ date ideas? _ ” She dodged the next folder flying her away. “Fine, fine! I’ll stop! What’s the  _ mission _ idea?” And as if on que, Lance gently slid a manilla folder down the table, pulling up a video call on the screen, ringing Hunk, Matt, and Allura in tandem. However, he was also grabbing his jacket, causing Coran to furrow his brows.

“Where are you going?” He asked as the screen at the front of the room blinked three times,  Hunk appearing live from a pool, Allura appearing live from an apparent makeup counter, and Matt sitting at some bar.

Typical.

“You can read, and you know my  _ friends _ ,” He waved at the screen to muffled hellos as he opened the door, their shared looks of unamusement showing this wasn’t the first time he called a meeting about a mission only to leave five minutes later. “I have to go make sure our recruits are ready for this shitshow.”

“You mean  _ your recruit? _ ” Ezor wiggled her brows, Hunk letting out a knowing laugh as he immediately caught on.

“What are you laughing at?” Lance snapped at Hunk, not missing the glare in Matt’s eye as he turned back around. “We all have shit to do! Shut up!” He stormed out then, the blinds hiding his action of storming into the other room and dragging Keith out by the collar. No questions were asked, except one by Coran to kick off the mission discussion;

“Matt, did Lance interfere with V0ltr0n’s affairs?”

Coran could tell so much from a glance.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Keith didn’t know what to think when his boss--er, when  _ Lance _ stormed into a room full of recruits to drag him out by his collar, but that didn’t stop his feet from making sure they kept up with the taller man as he made a bee-line for a specific room in the compound.

“Can you let me go?” Keith tried, but he was met with a tighter grasp on his shirt. When he didn’t even get a noise in reply, he dug his heels in the ground, using all his force to stop them from moving. Lance almost fell forward at the stop, his hand flying off Keith’s collar as he caught himself on the wall next to him.

“The hell-”

“I asked you to let me go and you didn’t,” Keith said, his heart still racing as he processed what was going on. “Now I’ll follow you on my own. Where are we going?” He straightened his shirt as Lance took a second to pull himself together, the obvious rage radiating off him easing as he fixed his gaze on Keith’s face. His visibly softened, causing Keith to ease up as well.

“I realized that despite you doing well,” Keith almost sucked in a breath at the underlying compliment. He was turning into such an idiot. “There’s one thing I’ve yet to see you do, and as a leader I feel the need to teach you.”

“How to deal with obnoxious leaders?” Keith smiled as Lance almost jumped at the rapid insult.

“How to shoot, idiot!” He pouted then, causing Keith to huff a laugh and nudge his cheek. “You can’t be in a damn gang called “shooter” and not know how to do so.” Keith almost retorted that he did in fact know how to shoot, but was never provided a gun. However, curiosity got the best of him, so he let Lance lead the dance as if he’s never even seen a gun before.

Except the pistol that almost shot his head off on an outing the other day, which was what probably spurred his need to teach him.

Glad to know the sharpshooter  _ cared.  _

“Only took you how long to realize that?” Keith chirped as Lance used a keycard to open the door to the shooting range, dodging a swat to the face as they both walked in. “Unless this is a sign I’m getting promoted to someone who actually gets to flaunt the gang name--”

“All of them know how to shoot sniper rifles worth more than your crotch rocket.” Lance noted, typing numbers into a pad on the wall that caused three silhouette targets to fall from the ceiling, each at a different distance from the bar they stood at. Racks of guns were hanging from the wall, ranging from pistols to rifles, sniper or hunting. The place was loaded.

Keith wondered what Lance’s stores looked like. 

“She gets me where I need to go, and will give me more of a rush than you ever will.” Keith shot back, nudging him out of the way and yanking a sniper rifle off the wall. He then kicked himself for flaunting his confidence, because in an instant Lance was on him, his sniper rifle on the bar as he put Keith’s down as well. 

“You wanna test that?” Lance teased, not a thought flowing through his mind as he closed the space between them.

“No,” Keith stepped back in stride, a notion in his mind telling him now wasn’t the time for this. “No. I wanna test your teaching skills.” Keith picked his sniper rifle back up, checking it’s magazine before putting everything into place. Lance only rolled his eyes as he cocked his gun as well, grabbing both of them protective glasses as he positioned himself behind Keith.

“Fine. So, first you’re going to want to position yourself like--” But both quickly realized Lance would not be able to teach Keith how to shoot, because the second he had Keith position himself to be level with the gun, Lance almost laughed at how close Keith’s ass was to his hips. “And before you ask, I’m not making you do this on purpose--”

“Okay,” Keith sighed then, reaching a hand behind him to grip Lance’s hip as he walked them back away from the bar. Lance made a noise in retort as Keith stood, clearly misunderstanding his intentions. “We’re not doing this. I was gonna act dumb to see what you would do, but-” And without continuing his sentence or giving Lance a chance to react we trotted back over to the rifle, lining himself up with hit to have a perfect shot of the head of the furthest target before he shot three rounds in succession, making a triangle of holes in the head of the target. Two in the eye area, one in the middle of the forehead.

Shots some of the recruits couldn’t even do.

He sounded off on the other targets, Lance too stunned to move from the spot he backed himself into. He even grabbed more kinds of guns off the walls, showing off just what he was capable of. Keith didn’t even seem to be himself as he made each shot with precision, evidence he’s done this before. But how?

“What the  _ hell _ , Keith?” He shouted over the sounds of bullets ricocheting off the walls. “What was _ that? _ ”

“That was me realizing I didn’t have to  _ act dumb _ to get five minutes alone with you, as well as me also hoping showing off like this would impress you to get _ more _ than five minutes with you.” Keith threw his glasses aside and put the gun down, walking back up to Lance who was still leaning against the wall. His adrenaline was pumping as he hadn’t experienced a shot like that in awhile, and only hoped he’d get a chance to take it out sooner. Lance, however, was internally panicking at the sight of a  _ Kogane _ knowing how to wield  _ his  _ greatest possession.

He  _ had _ to know. Fuck what Shiro said. Shiro was wrong. 

But they had been tracking Keith. They would know more than  _ anyone. _

“I don’t know what to say.” Lance deadpanned before Keith could question his silence, Keith visibly hurt by the lack of compliment. 

“ _Good job’s_ a start,” Keith shrugged, starting to clean up before he heard how needy he sounded. “Not that I need your validation. Shit, this turned from a flirt to hell quick--”

“Who taught you to shoot like that?” Lance all-but demanded, cleaning up the rest of Keith’s mess as Keith stood there, almost dropping the gun in his hand at the question.

“What?”

“That’s not natural. That’s pure harnessed skill. _Trained._ Who trained you?” Keith felt like he was being interrogated by how ferocious Lance’s voice turned. Could one say he was _jealous_ at how good Keith was? Or maybe upset because it was an opportunity for Lance to show off in front of the raven-haired boy, which Keith _robbed_ from him? Keith almost kicked himself for jumping the gun. Lance had an ego! He didn’t want to be impressed! He wanted to  _ impress! _

“Old friend of mine,” Keith shrugged, his thoughts jumping from one of regret to one of relapsing. He could have left it at that, but something in him demanded he say the name. The name he swore he’d never forget:

\-----------------------------

_ “I still don’t understand why your perfect date idea was a damn shooting range.” Keith complained, despite having decimated all the targets on their side of the range. All thanks to his company of course. _

_ “Clearly you had some frustration to get out,” The other man pointed out, arm around Keith’s shoulders as he kissed the top of Keith’s head. “Besides, I think it’s a good skill to have.” _

_ “Yeah, for criminals,” Keith snorted, studying their work as he leaned into the other man’s kiss. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Shiro?”  _

_ “I’m glad my comment made you ask that, and not my skill. You let me teach you. You ran with it. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Shiro shot back, trying not to laugh as Keith elbowed his stomach. _

_ “Nah,” Keith assured, untangling himself to finish cleaning up their spot. “Besides, if I was, you’d be there with me.” Shiro didn’t even seem to flinch at the comment. He was used to Keith’s dark humor. He just smiled and ran a hand through Keith’s hair. _

_ “And how are you so sure?” He took Keith’s hand as they started to walk out. “You know who my family is. We’re essentially the whole police department. I’m the golden boy of the law--” _

_ “Yeah, yeah,” Keith rolled his eyes, “Which is why you’re dating the delinquent with a father who defends criminals. We truly are a cliche’ couple.” The grip on their hands tightened at the description. Their grins mirrored each other. _

_ “So we’re either two star-crossed lovers forbidden to see each other, yet doing it anyway,” Shiro started, a hand on his chest as he mocked a shitty british accent. “Or we’re Partners in Crime.” _

_ “Exactly,” Keith nodded, standing on his tip-toes to kiss Shiro as they made it to his bike. It was larger than Keith’s, far from a crotch rocket, but Keith loved it. The wind in his hair, his arms around Shiro’s waist. It was a memory Keith held onto like a lifeline. “Regardless, I’ll follow you through anything.” Keith looked up at a grey pair of eyes looking down at him in admiration. Adoration. Love. _

_ Shiro was looking at his world. _

_ “Unless the tables turn. Then I’ll be following you.” Shiro held him tight. _

_ Keith thought the whole conversation was a joke. Sure they loved each other, but crime? _

_ Not from the golden boys. _

_ It was a joke. _

\------------------------------

“Name was Shiro. Best shot I ever saw--” Step one on how to get closer to a boy? Don’t talk about other guys in front of them. Don’t compliment other guys in front of him.  _ God,  _ Keith was messing this up. The tears in his eyes at the memory didn’t help.

“You  _ knew _  Shiro?” It seemed Lance was strung up on something else though, therefore Keith’s inner turmoil about fucking up this moment was moot compared to the can of worms that just spilled.

“You  _ know _ Shiro?” Keith shot back immediately, his heart almost stopping as their eyes met. Lance looked  _ mad _ . Keith looked  _ horrified _ . 

“Yeah I _ know _ Shiro!” Lance threw his hands up, the armful of guns dropping and barely setting off as they hit the ground. “Who the hell doesn’t! It’s not like he’s the  _ leader _ of the gang that was _ tracking  _ you this whole time!” Keith felt like he got shot right then and there.

“He is?”

“Oh don’t act like you didn’t know that!” Lance spat, and Keith swore he almost looked hurt at the admission . “This whole thing was a setup, wasn’t it? Some sick joke? Were you two working together to fuck with me? He’s always saying I don’t get close to people and the second I was willing to with you--” I t was like watching a rabid animal collapse on itself.

“I haven’t seen him in almost  _ 5 years _ , Lance,” Keith pressed through his teeth, his whole being shaking at the memories start started to flood back into his mind. “I thought he was  _ dead. _ ” The rapid animal froze again, both of them struggling to process everything going on.

“Well he may as well be,” Lance cracked a joke then, his tension waning as he tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t be this vulnerable here. Not in front of Keith, though it felt so right. “He’s a fucking  _ cyborg _ now. All of  _ them _ are. Pidge creates prosthetics that end up becoming one with the bearer, and she’s essentially programming a whole army, that’s the  _ gang-- _ ”

“Why does he have a prosthetic?” Keith almost cried, and Lance wanted to get mad at Keith’s obvious compassion towards Shiro, but there was clearly something Lance didn’t know if Keith thought Shiro died, and Shiro kept an eye on Keith while keeping him in the dark as well.

And Lance was going to figure it out, because he cared.

About _ Keith. _

Shiro could go to hell at this moment for all Lance cared about him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, isn’t there--”

“I guess so,” Keith elbowed the keypad to open the door then, visibly collapsing as Lance reached for him. “But I can’t talk about it now.” He only looked back to notice there were tears forming in Lance’s eyes. Something he never thought he’d see. 

He’d never be allowed to see.

“Where are you going?” Lance demanded, lunging at him but catching himself on the wall. “You can’t leave like that--”

“I just need air!” Was all Keith answered as he stormed down the hall, the traction of his boots audible in both rooms as Lance’s clumsy movement was trailing after him.

“Keith!” But the violet-eyed boy was gone. To where? Lance didn’t know. But he couldn’t make himself follow. He couldn’t cave when he knew his whole gang could hear him now.

There was only one thing he could do.

He kicked open the door where Ezor and Coran still were, their notes and plans on the table fluttering from the wind impact.

“What the hell--”

“Matt,” Lance didn’t even look at the two in the room, or Hunk who was staring at him a certain way, or Allura who almost looked amused, he just looked directly at the man who seemed to be expecting this. “Where’s Shiro?”

“You saw him last. You tell me.” Was all Matt retorted, evidence of a few drinks in.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but you can let him know that  _ his  _ little  _ problem  _ he had you and Pidge watching over just took off in tears, and I have no idea where he’s going.” Ezor gasped as Allura stopped laughing, Hunk almost choking on his drink as Matt slammed his shot glass down.

“And  _ you _ just  _ let  _ him walk out?” Coran asked before anyone else could think of a responsible thing to say.

“He’s a grown ass man,” Lance shrugged, absentmindedly pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “He can do what he wants.”

“Because he’s Keith,” Ezor shot back. “Right?” This wasn’t the time. Matt already hung up as Lance walked out of the room without another word, pathing directly for their garage. Hunk and Allura hung up as well, leaving Ezor to frown when Coran gave her a disappointed look as he finished their work.

“Maybe lay off the comments for a bit. Clearly something happened.” Was all he had to say as the echo of tires screeching out of the garage rattled the whole compound. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where the fuck can I find him?” was all Lance heard over his car speakers as Keith had called him, clearly using bluetooth at the sound of the wind whipping behind him. 

“Where the fuck can I find  _ you? _ ” Lance shot back, hurt in his voice. Keith wanted to admit to himself he felt bad for leaving Lance like that, the man clearly nervous as someone in Keith’s mental state shouldn’t be piloting a bike, but here he was, and there Lance was. 

“ _ Where is he? _ ” Keith tried again, desperation in his voice. 

“I’ll tell you if you come the fuck back!” Lance begged, but the demanding tone ruined any sense of sincerity. “Just get off the road at least. Shit, I can’t keep up with you and you really shouldn’t be out there--” He then heard Keith slam the brakes of his bike, followed by silence, which made Lance’s heart skip a beat. “Keith?”

Still silence.

“Keith!”

“I stopped, but that’s all your getting out of me. Now, I’ll ask one more time;  _ Where is he?”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going somewhere, lads.


	9. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has a Ghost.  
> Lance becomes a Ghostbuster.  
> Why did Shiro Ghost anyway?

Lance ended up sending Keith to a bar to calm down, explaining that he’d take him to Shiro when he was thinking straight. Putting him around booze probably didn’t help, but he called Axca and asked her to meet Keith there, keep him away from alcohol, and try to get him to explain his reaction.

She probably already knew, but she was the only one he wanted near Keith right now.

As for Lance, he managed to find Shiro’s location through one of his many eyes he kept in bars.

He had a gut feeling it was another setup for him to fall in. He needed answers though. He needed Keith back. So here he was, almost storming through the front door of the bar to find it completely empty.

Except for Shiro and the bartender, both lightly chatting until he approached the seat next to the larger man.

“This a setup too?” Lance snarled, the bartender gently laying a shot in front of him and scurrying off as the tension in the room skyrocketed. “I hope not. I don’t think anything can top the shi _ t you  _ and  _ Keith  _ pulled on me. What did I ever do to you?”

“What are you talking about?” It took a lot for Shiro to get drunk, but the change in his voice was evidence enough he’d been here longer than expected.

“You told me to teach him how to shoot! You told me to let him into the Tirador, and the second I do he seems to explode and outdo every damn recruit in the compound--”

“Makes sense. He did seem like he had promise--”

“Yet the second him and I get into a shooting range he tears it up like he expected to become my right hand man  _ immediately.  _ What I saw wasn’t natural, so of course to kill the mood of a heated moment I asked him who taught him. You wanna know what he said?”  He watched Shiro’s prosthetic close into a fist, his flesh hands’ grip on his glass tightening.

“He told you--”

“He said  _ Shiro. _ Shiro, amidst a river of tears. I almost hoped he said his father instead, because that would have made more sense to me. Been less of a  _ pain _ to hear. Less of a fucking betrayal--”

“How was that a  _ betrayal? _ ” Shiro hissed, “So what if I did? Clearly his skills show he was meant to be in the Tirador out of what the rest of us had to offer.”

“He also knows how to win in hand-to-hand combat. I saw him sparring at the gym near his house. I figured since you were tracking him you knew that--” Lance reached for another drink as the tension rose.

“I taught him that too.” Shiro tried to ignore a single tear sitting on his eyelid at the memory of him and Keith sparring in his basement. Body on body, lying next to each other. On top of each other.

Where it went after that.

“Of course you did. So I ask again, why did you set me up? Also, why the hell did he think you were dead the past 5 years?” Lance didn’t know how he felt at this point.

\--------------------------------------------

_ He couldn’t remember what exactly went wrong in his steering to cause him to ram his motorcycle head first into a purple lamborghini speeding in his direction, but what confused him more was how he ended up in a cold tiled room with fluorescent lighting. From the blurry sights and sounds he knew damn well he wasn’t in a hospital, so where exactly was he?  _

_ He still smelled saline and disinfectant, still felt the presence of numerous people, but none looked professional. It looked like a team of medical school rejects having their way with his strapped down body. He started to struggle against the restraints, indication that he was awake and aware, causing the presence to scurry out of the room. All that remained was a singular ragged-looking doctor and an older woman with long white hair and nails that good shank whoever she wanted to. _

_ “Do you know who you are?” The woman’s voice was shrill. Broken. _

_ “Sh-Shiro.” He choked out, his head starting to pound as the confusion started to wear off. He glanced over and saw a drip of pain medication, but what caught his eye with more alarm was the hunk of metal that currently took the place of his right arm. _

_ “That’s not what your license says, boy. What’s your real name?” The woman pressed, ignoring the look of panic on his face as when he went to move his right arm, the metal hunk taking its place moved as if it was part of him. _

_ It was a prosthetic like he’d never seen before. _

_ “What happened to my arm?” _

_ “Answer my question!” The woman wrapped her claw-like nails around the prosthetic, holding it in place until she got what she wanted. _

_ “Takashi Shirogane!” He snapped at her, his instincts telling him he shouldn’t be here as he tried to fight the restraints again. “What do you want from me?” _

_ “We did you a favor here, young man,” She lifted the prosthetic out from under it’s restraint, bringing it into his point of view more clearly. “You crashed your bike into my sons car because you were driving like an imbecile, put his life at risk yet here we are, offering you a prosthetic better than any hospital can get you. You should be thanking us before questioning what we want as repayment!” The doctor then pressed a few buttons on his drip, taking his leave so it was just Shiro and the woman. _

_ “T-Thank you.” The most Shiro could do was be complacent.  _

_ “You’re welcome,” The woman took a seat at the foot of his bed, looking at the ceiling in thought. “And my son will be okay. He was agile enough to hop out before anything could happen to him. As for what I want from you,” She trapped her nails on his bruised calf, causing him to wince. “This may seem odd coming from a stranger, but do you know anything about Texas Kogane’s business affairs?” Shiro almost wished the car accident killed him. Clearly he was in the company of someone he never wanted to see. _

_ “Depends on who’s asking.” Shiro quipped, hoping she’d see him as nothing more than a young man with poor driving skills.  _

_ She wasn’t a fool. _

_ “I guess I should have introduced myself first,” She smirked, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I am Haggar, wife of Zarkon, both leaders of the Galra.” Galra. _

_ He heard that before. _

_ His father had a whole bulletin board full of notes on these people. _

_ “One of the gangs.” Shiro deadpanned, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. He knew he should have kept himself out. _

_ “Yes, and I’m sure you can guess Texas won’t protect you. So it’s best you tell me whatever you know.” _

_ “I only know that he sells guns to people like you. Only because I had a friend who stumbled upon the factory one day and saw his face. Almost sold the photo, but strangely disappeared after he told me his plan.” _

_ “Did you ever worry Texas would come after you?” And before Shiro could answer, Haggar laughed, shaking her head. “What a silly question on my behalf. Of course he wouldn’t. Not when you were in bed with his son. His darling boy--” _

_ “I’m not using his son as leverage.” Shiro snarled. No one could refer to Keith like that. _

_ “I never said you were. That was a conclusion you drew yourself,” Haggar shrugged, the bags under her eyes illuminated by the lighting. “I just assumed that since you were close to his son, maybe you knew more. That Kogane boy had to have told you some more family secrets, yes? Stuff I could use?” _

_ “Even if I did know anything, why would I tell you?” _

_ “I don’t think you’re in a good situation to make your own decisions,” Haggar glared down at him, a look that could kill by itself. “Unless you’d truly die for that boy.” She eyed the drip with a playful look. _

_ “He doesn’t know anything.” Shiro may very well have died for Keith, but not over a preventable reason like this. _

_ “And you’re sure about that?” Haggar looked skeptical, but he could also see how tired she was. How hard was it to run a gang hiding behind an escort business? _

_ “If he did, do you think he’d be walking around in broad daylight with the police chief’s son?”  _

_ “It is a good way to keep up his public image.” _

_ “He’s a college student. Valedictorian. Think he has time to go shooting with his dad in between classes and extracurriculars? Hell no.” Shiro tried not to laugh at how this woman could possibly think his nerdy boyfriend could possibly partake in his father’s gang affairs. _

_He had a shred of doubt as the woman kept pressing, but there was no way Keith would, right? They did vow once they’d do it together. Had he forgotten that?_ _  
__Shiro stopped himself. If he started thinking like that, this woman would be winning._

_ “I guess you make a fair point,” Haggar stood, walking over to the window and opening the blinds, almost blinding Shiro. “But I’m still making a demand of you.” _

_ “Which is?” Demand? _

_ “Leave Keith. Leave that whole family and their affairs. You’ll do it if you love him.” Shiro broke the restraint around his other arm, sitting up immediately. _

_ “What?” _

_ “You see, that arm is not just a prosthetic,” She revealed a remote then, running her hand over a ball that caused Shiro’s arm to rise against his will. “It’s a weapon. A tracking device. Whatever the hell I want it to be. You stay around them? I’ll find you. I’ll find them. You’ll essentially be a bug in their system that I placed.” _

_ “Why would you do this?” Shiro tried to lower the arm, but it was stronger than him. “Why me?” _

_ “It’s just a sad coincidence that you ended up here. But why wouldn’t I? Your father must know how much we all despise Texas Kogane.” _

_ “So you’re going through me and his son to get to him?” _

_ “You’re Keith’s biggest weakness, and Keith is his. Keith matters more to that man than his own wife. It’s pure genius.” _

_ “It’s disgusting.” Shiro spat, gasping as she pressed a button to make the prosthetic punch him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. _

_ “I’d be careful what you say. Might want to keep in mind I have this,” She undid the rest of his restraints then, opening the door for him. “Now leave. Leave here. You were never here. Leave Keith. You have a day to say goodbye to him before I turn tracking on.” _

_ “So even if I do leave him, you’re going to track me?” _

_ “You are a mole in the police department if I do.” _

_ “So you’re blackmailing me into falling off the grid?” Shiro couldn’t believe a steering malfunction was steering his life into a shithole. _

_ “One less problem on my plate. You were going to make a fine police chief one day. That, and a heir to the Kogane Syndicate? Couldn’t have those two together.” Haggar then grabbed Shiro by the collar, throwing him out the door. “Now go.” _

_ Shiro left without another word. _

_ Just like he left Keith without a word at all. _

_ He just vanished. _

\--------------------------------------------

“Explain to me why you think you were setup.  _ Tricked _ into taking him, maybe, but how is that a setup if nothing negative comes out of it?” Shiro said, waiting until Lance looked away to wipe the tears from his eyes. He drank more to suppress the image of Haggar in his head.

“Because, in case the pairs of eyes you have watching Keith and I haven’t told you yet, it’s pretty damn obvious him and I are sort of becoming a thing!” Lance didn’t miss the paleness resting on Shiro’s face. “At least we were, but of course some  _ five year long _ plan of yours had to resurface and ruin it! How  _ close _ were you two? Must have been something for him to react like that--” Lance cut himself short as he gasped.

It must have hit him, for the next few minutes in the bar were silent. Shiro was trying to come to terms with the idea that Keith was truly feeling something for Lance, as well as ignore the images of Keith’s reaction to him being alive and involved in this shit while Lance’s insecurity started to take over him. 

_ Of course Keith and Shiro would have something deep. Both were attractive. Both probably had more in common than Lance and Keith. Keith was too beautiful for Lance. Too pure. Too good-- _

Lance needed a fix. He needed this to stop,  _ now. _

“ _ Don’t, _ ” Was all Shiro had to say to pull Lance back into reality. “Now isn’t the time for that.” 

Was Lance that predictable? He then noticed he was twitching.

“So you had a thing with him, then?” Lance took another shot as Shiro looked on, a feeling of guilt almost breaking his stoic mask.

“Yeah,” He breathed out, as if admitting something he’d never regret stabbed him sharper than the glare Lance was shooting him. “Long time ago. Lost times now.”

“You’re sure about that?” The pain in Shiro’s chest tightened as he could  _ hear _ the raise of Lance’s brow.

“If I wasn’t, he’d be trailing after me right now,” Shiro shoved himself off the barstool, almost shaking the structure with his strength. Lance didn’t budge as he turned to pace. Something he had to do to calm himself down. “But instead he’s after you. Fuck knows why, considering how you’ve acted around him.” Lance watched with a stance of stone, the only moving part of him being his eyes that raked down Shiro’s resigned stature.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly. You aren’t showing him who you really are,” There Shiro went again. Gang father. “Who Pidge, Hunk, Allura and I know. When’s that Lance going to come out? When’s the  _ Tirador de Primera  _ going to step aside and let  _ McClain _ back in?” When he didn’t receive a response from the cuban sharpshooter, he sighed, resting against one of the posts near the bar. “I may not have known that you two had a thing, and for the record I don’t care, but they do tell me how you treat him. It’s not horrible, but it’s not genuine either. If you want him, why don’t you show him who you really are?” Lance only rolled his eyes.

If only Shiro knew how complicated that would make things.

“It’s like you’re hiding something.”

Maybe he did.

“What would I be hiding exactly?” Lance immediately jumped off the stool, physically getting defensive.

“Why are you asking me?” Shiro scoffed, throwing his hands up. “That’s something only you’d know!” Lance then realized V0ltr0n must really not have anything on Lance’s past in concern to why he was acting a certain way around Keith. 

It was a voice in his head that he always fought to ignore when he was around the violet-eyed boy.

“Would all this explain why you were tracking him before I asked, then?” Lance tried to come down from his defensive high. Man, he wished he was high right now. He wished Shiro would leave so he could calm the insecure voice ringing in his ears. He  _ hated _ it. “Ghosted on him for some damn reason, but put eyes on him so you could watch what you  _ gave up? _ ”

“I  _ had _ to leave him,” Shiro stated bluntly. No room for questions. No explanation. That was it. “But I also promised him I’d never leave him, so in my mind it was my way of still being there for him.”

“Yet he doesn’t know, therefore it’s a moot plan.”

“It gave me peace of mind. And he seemed to find some as well, but of course you had to ruin it.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lance shook his head in disbelief. “It’s not like there are thousands of guys in town named  _ Shiro. _ ”

“Maybe left it at that? Not act like you talked to me the day before? You put on an act all the time, why couldn’t you have done me a favor--”

“You seem really  _ fixated _ on the fact that I’m always living a charade. You knew that the second you met me. What gives now?”

“Because I _ still _ love Keith,” Shiro looked like a rock sitting on his chest fell, and that same rock landed on Lance. “But I can also tell how under all the drugs in your system and faces you wear, he means to mean something to you. I’m not going to ruin that. But I want him to have what he deserves, and I think only  _ Lance McClain _ is worthy of that. Not whoever is standing in front of me.” Lance almost wanted to crack a joke that he was acting like a dad again, but he realized those were words of someone who once cherished the ground Keith Kogane walked on. Probably still did.

Lance should be saying shit like that. Feeling that way. But he wasn’t letting himself, because the past was looming, as were expectations of him he didn’t know if he could meet sober.

“I can try.” Was all Lance could get out, his voice weak as he couldn’t bring himself to look Shiro in the eye again.

“I know you can  _ try. _ But you need to  _ commit _ to it,” Shiro stood off the post then, stretching and grabbing his keys off the bartop. “And I also know he’s the one that’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes, so tell him that I want nothing to do with him.” 

The way Shiro said that so easily shocked Lance.

“Why would I tell him that? Don’t you want to see him at least--”

“I had five years to see him. Seeing him now would just pull him into deeper shit than we both need to deal with.  _ Tell him I want nothing to do with him. _ ” Lance saw the tears waiting in Shiro’s eyes, so he simply stepped aside, letting the almost-cyborg man walk out without another word. Another effort to question or stop him. 

Lance was lining up another hit on the bartop as he absentmindedly texted Keith Shiro’s exact words, the guilt he would have felt buried under a feeling of euphoria flowing through his senses.

\--------------------------------------------------------

“Shiro’s still alive?” Axca couldn’t believe it either, as Keith explained what had happened through fits of tears. He figured Lance had given him a false location, but he couldn’t deny the sense of relief he felt when he saw Axca waiting for him in the private area of one of the nicer LA bars.

“I guess so.” He tried to calm himself down, but it was all too much. He didn’t miss the looks Lance was giving him. He also knew Lance probably didn’t get why he reacted the way he did, and to be honest Keith didn’t expect Lance to act so--concerned, but here he was crying over an old ghost.

“Jesus. He’s probably involved in this shit too if Lance knows him.” Axca took the shot from Keith’s hand and drank it, determined to make sure he has a clear mind. She however could use as much alcohol as she could get her hands on, for Keith was a handful when he was upset. Not that she blamed him. She never had a boyfriend come back from the dead.

“I’m sure he is, which would explain why he disappeared. Was he afraid to tell me? Was he threatened not to? I just want to see him--”

“I get that, but you do have a present situation to consider as well.” Keith wasn’t ready for how blunt Axca was. Allura really was rubbing off on her.

“Which is?”

“Lance?” Axca rose her brows as if it was obvious. “Regardless of where you and him truly stand right now, don’t you think barreling out of his compound after straight up switching the mood of the room hurt him too?”

“Why does that matter?” Keith hissed, his eyes dry and slowly starting to burn with rage.

“Because everyone and their mother can tell you’re infatuated with each other even if you try to keep it on the low. I  _ barely _ see you anymore and  _ I know. _ ” It was true. Stolen glances, more physical interaction, it was all intentional. Signs of something closer. 

But Shiro was apparently coming back to the picture, whether Keith liked it or not. What was he going to do?

“I get you loved Shiro with your whole being, but even if he does appear again, do you think he’s the same man from back then?”

“Why would he change?” Keith was always too optimistic for his own good.

“He ghosted on you. He wouldn’t have stayed hidden if he didn’t change,” Axca shrugged from behind her glass as if she never felt for someone before. “Besides. Until that moment, how often was he on your mind? You told me once you  _ finally _ came to peace with him being gone--”

“I still thought about him. More than my dad, really.” Keith never admitted that aloud. 

Axca was shocked too.

“And when you looked at Lance, did you think about him?”

“Not like Lance and I have done enough  _ alone  _ to even question that,” Keith then shot Axca a glare. “Don’t even compare the two! They’re nothing alike.”

“I’m just saying you can’t start relapsing--”

“In something that should never have ended--” Wasn’t Axca supposed to be supporting Keith right now? It was like she was shoving Lance in his face!

His face, that was stuck in clouded judgement. He was sober, yet drunk off a past that he had gotten over. All for a man that’s apparently in his circle, who never came to him.

“Listen,” Axca sighed, the alcohol clearly getting to her as she grabbed Keith’s jaw to look her in the eye. “I can’t tell you how to feel. Who to go for. And yeah, Lance is sort of an obnoxious douche at times--”

“So much love for him.” Keith interrupted her, causing her to lose her train of thought momentarily.

“But it’s obvious you have something for him now, or else you wouldn’t have guilt hanging on your face,” Axca tapped Keith’s cheek lovingly. “I may be drunk, but I can still see what I need to. Now pull yourself together and talk to them. Either of them. Both of them. Preferably not at the same time--”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“You have a big mission tomorrow. You can’t be here crying over a love triangle that probably isn’t even a triangle. It’s a line. An angle. A side--”

“We’re going home.” Keith slowly stood, shaking off any feelings he had as he helped Axca to her feet.

“You mean I’m going to the apartment, and you’re going to the compound?”

“I’ll come to the apartment for now--” A text had interrupted his sentiment.

**[11:30]: Tiradaddy ;): Shiro said he wants nothing to do with you, take that for what it is**

It was like the past shot him again. That, and what Lance named himself in his phone made him wanna die.

“Then you’ll go talk to Lance?” Axca finished, Keith’s phone ending up in her hands. “If anything, get you two on the same page for tomorrow?”

“He’s lying, right?” Keith tried, but Axca smacked him on the back of the head.

“Has no reason to. But remember, mission tomorrow, soap opera another day.” They headed back to the apartment in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be Boys.


	10. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith found a surprise that night.  
> There was one for him on the mission brief that well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These storms better stop killing my motivation D:<  
> Also had to add more chapters due to how I was breaking up the final few big scenes. Excitement :D

Keith and Lance didn’t talk that night. Keith went back to the compound looking for him, but all he found was a drugged out heap in bed.  _ His _ bed.

“He asked me to help him in,” Ezor explained when Keith stormed into the control room in a mix of rage and confusion. “Figured you wouldn’t care, but he owns the place. He can do what he wants.”

“Considering there’s locks on the doors, I figured privacy would be  _ respected _ here.” Keith shot back before Coran, the oldest of the bunch, intervened.

“Trust me, we were both apprehensive about it,” Coran looked like he was stepping on eggshells. “But it’s a large assumption something’s between you two. We thought he’s been in there already--”

“If he’s been in there,” Keith could feel his jaw clench again. “He  _ wouldn’t  _ have needed help.”

“Clearly you haven’t dealt with him after an episode then,” Ezor snapped, walking out as Coran dismissed her. “It was like helping a baby deer learn to walk. You’re welcome from moving him from the damn doorway.”

“Episode?” Keith wondered if he was coping.

“He’s an addict. I’m sure you could assume that,” Coran started, causing Keith to shrug. He had his suspicions after processing the night at the bar, but truly he assumed they all were addicts seeing as only people into drugs would do shit like _this._ _Even Shir-_ “But he only does heavy hits when something’s affected him.”

“And everyone seems to assume him and I are a thing, so you’re pining me walking out on his destructive behavior?” Keith tried to ignore the pang of guilt that hit his chest. Why’d he feel guilty? His past just came back from the dead--

\--And he almost had a moment with Lance. That he walked out of.

“Amongst other things I presume,” Coran looked unsure. “But it seems his hostility towards finding Shiro was influenced by your actions.  _ You. _ ”

“So what do I do?” Keith’s head started to spin again. He couldn’t walk out. He couldn’t walk in.

“Do you know how to care for one coming down,” A vision of Acxa coming home one night from a sorority party high off her damn mind, only to be near death the next morning popped in his head. “Or  shall I show you to a spare room until he wakes up?”

“I’m not being shut out of  _ my _ damn room.” Keith snarled, stomping back down the hall towards the now-cracked door leading to his space.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind!” Coran called after him, the conversation ending as Keith opened the door, closing it softly as he sighed against it. He slowly took off his jacket and pants, irritated that he’d have to sleep in full-on PJ’s instead of his usual boxers only. It was too hot for that. It’s LA! He wiped off the remaining eyeliner that stuck to his tear-stained face, walking over to his bed and sighing again at the sleeping man who didn’t budge. Keith stood silent for a moment, checking to make sure Lance was breathing before he made a quiet effort to climb over him.

“God  _ damnit _ , Lance.” Keith grumbled as he lost his balance, accidentally straddling the sleeping Cuban before falling down next to him. Keith lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling accompanied by the soft breathing of Lance’s snores. He didn’t know what to think of this.

He felt a sense of peace, but also a sense that this wasn’t supposed to be happening.  _ No shit _ . Lance shouldn’t be passed out in his bed because he no doubt was looking for him, and decided here was the best place to crash.

He should be in this spot because he wanted to be.

Part of Keith wanted to be as well, despite everything that happened today. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, welcoming a much needed rest before a light whisper danced through his ears.

“I’m sorry.” It had to have been Lance who said it. No one else was there. Keith’s heart almost froze, but he had to go to sleep. Had to let Lance know he didn’t hear it. Lance probably said it because he thought Keith was asleep.

So Keith slept.

And Lance continued.

_ “I’m sorry for everything.” _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Instead of a whisper intruding his slumber that morning, it was a rather aggressive shout that caused his eyes to shoot open. Alert enough to realize the spot next to him was empty, Keith quickly fumbled out of bed and onto his dresser as the shouting continued, multiple voices arguing about god knows what echoing throughout the compound. He then remembered he was already fully dressed, and decided he wasn’t going to clean himself up until the mission later.

The mission.

No doubt what was being yelled about. Keith rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his bed head, trying to flatten some tufts sticking out before making his way towards the center of the commotion; The kitchen.

Maybe it wasn’t the mission. Maybe someone spit in someone else’s muffin. Keith couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, freezing when he noticed the large amount of people seated in the long rows of benches as well as the large group centered around the kitchen island.

Clearly he was late to  _ Breakfast Thanksgiving: Gang Edition. _ His interruption didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m glad you think your pajamas were perfect mission briefing attire,” Lotor quipped, standing behind Allura who looked intrigued at whatever was on the island. Hunk gave a gentle wave from behind them all, hard at work cooking with some of his recruits for the mass amount of hungry people seated. “Now get over here! You’re going to love this.” He felt his eyes levitate towards the source of the yelling that woke him up, the bearer’s eyes looking back at him with wide eyes and red cheeks.

Their gazes diverted immediately.

“I said  _ get over here. _ ” Lotor was next to Keith in an instant, hard grip on his shoulder as he shoved him through the crowd around the island. Ezor, Coran, even the  _ Harry Potter _ looking guy was there. All moved out of his way as he caught himself on the island, taking in the document plastered on the counter thanks to the projector hanging above the island. It was as big as the counter, and Keith had to blink a few times before he could read over all of it;

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Mission Brief: The Gala of Lions - A Celebration of Unity**

 

**Location:** Los Angeles County Museum of Art

 

The Gala of Lions is an event being held by **_[host name unknown]_** and the Galra to celebrate the signing of a **_[amount unknown]_** contract between the **_[host name unknown]_** and their business associates to combine assets and begin taking over both the West and East Coasts of the US, as well as moving out to parts of China. 

Our primary duty at this event is to take out the targets listed below while staying under the radar and keep an eye out for anything suspicious, as expected of high end events like this. This mission will take complete cooperation from  _ The Tirador, V0ltr0n.exe, A Taste of Space, and The Galra. _ Any malicious move will be dealt with accordingly after the mission commences, failure or not.

Though co-hosting, it has come to our attention that despite thorough questioning and searching, the Galra have no idea who the co-host is. Their contact with one another have been made through encrypted emails that were deleted after 24 hours, and vanished as if the device they were sent from was burned as well. Do not pester Lotor and Allura on the situation.  **We know what they know** , and you can trust that statement.

 

**Target(s):**

**> ”Slav” -** Short, Antisocial, Genius. Tufts of white hair sort of whisker-like as beard. Short, dark grey hair. Most likely to be surrounded by protection due to size and vulnerability. Speaks in code. Uses numbers to confuse individuals and make them lose interest in conversation. Manipulative. Attending to sign off on deal with  **_[host name unknown]_ ** of Gala.

**Plan to get target in place?:** Matt will mingle with the “tech-gods” and get in with him. He’s learned how to talk his way around the code and numbers. God bless you, Matt.

**> ”Thace” - ** An up and coming playboy who most definitely will be at the head of every conversation bustling through the ballroom tonight. Strong physique. Short, dark purple hair. Golden Eyes, which are contacts. True eye color unknown. Charming, uses his looks and ambition to charm individuals to getting what he wants.  **(Almost the male Allura if not for Lotorrrrrrrrrrrrr)-(Fuck off Matt! No dumb comments on mission briefs!)** Most likely to be minging with  **_[host name unknown]_ ** **.**

**Plan to get target in place?:** Lance and  **Keith** will work together to lure this one out. Apologies for pimping you out  **Keith** , but you will be Lance’s date for the evening, using your beauty to try to swing Thace into getting into a position for the Snipers, all white sharing a dance or two with Lance to sell your act. I apologize again.

 

_ [It is evident the text had been revised by someone here. Allura had been replaced by Keith.The last login on the page was Shiro’s. When investigated, Matt had found a note saying “Will teach them to get on the same page, they need it” tagged to the revision.] _

 

**> ”Kolivan” - ** Broad, tense individual. Barely speaks to anyone yet manages to blend into crowds well. Assumed commander/leader/right hand of whoever is running this show. Long, braided grey hair. Light g’rey eyes. **(The man is literally stronk Gandalf L0L)-(Matt I swear to G0D)** Square Jaw, always watching behind his back.

**Plan to get target in place?:** Ezor will use her, say,  _ eccentric _ personality and ability to never shut up to try to get him to talk. He has an interest in people who aren’t stoic like him. He has a daughter like you. Touch his heart.

Any member of the **_[hosts name unknown]_ ** group, implying they all have a unique aspect of their attire to use as identification, will need to be taken out as well. Galra-spite or not, we don’t want them in our town.

 

**Assignments for Each Group:**

 

**The Tirador** \- Have **12 Snipers** set up in the apartment buildings surrounding the Museum. **6 Buildings** in total. **2 Snipers to a building.** Have **2 more recruits** accompany the snipers. **4 People to a building.** **24 Tirador Recruits Total.** Keep an eye on the event and if called upon, snipe the targets and flee the apartment building. Meet up with the _Tirador de Primera_ in _Las Vegas, Nevada_ , tomorrow morning.

 

**A Taste of Space -** Caterers of the event, go about your business as usual. There will be order forms coming in of specific tables. **Work your magic** on those meals. **DO NOT LET ANY OF OUR PEOPLE EAT THE FOOD. NO ONE EAT THE FOOD.** All of the people in attendance will get sick, will blame it on the **water supply** in the museum which will be tampered with. If needed, will ask for lethal dessert if targets don’t move as planned.

 

**The Galra -** It is doubtful that **_[host name unknown]_** and affiliates know of Allura and Lotor’s involvement in this, so keep an eye on the party and act as if everything’s normal. **_Do not cross us._** Your family doesn’t want this group settling in. None of us do. Yet Haggar seems to try to be rubbing elbows with them. 

 

**V0ltr0n.exe -** Museum Cameras. Street Cameras. Police scanners. Security. All of it. Watch it. Hack it. It’s quite simple, do I have to write it to you all? Doubtful. I’m essentially talking to myself. **We’ll do our shit, you do yours.**

 

**Anything else will be discussed in person, but we’re all adults here. Just have some common sense.**

 

**V0ltr0n.ggez**

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And  _ who  _ changed Allura’s name to Keith?” Lotor drew out as soon as he was sure it hit Keith why he dragged him over to the island. Keith was too busy glancing over the brief over and over, trying to piece together exactly what was being asked of him. 

Asked of all of them. What  _ was _ this?

“Stop it!” Allura smacked Lotor on the chest, shooting an apologetic glance in Keith’s direction. “We aren’t stirring shit up this early!”

“Who did?” Keith asked, looking around to see looks of confusion and teasing. Was he missing something?

“Shiro did,” He heard a voice behind him state bluntly. The Harry Potter guy had pushed through the group, tapping the counter so the brief disappeared from the projection. “Said you and Lance would need it to learn to work together. Don’t know why he feels like that’s necessary since you’ve been up each other’s asses--” The guy paused to dodge a wooden spoon being thrown in his direction by Lance. “But whatever. I go with what he wants. See you all tonight.” And with his hands in his pockets, the guy was gone, leaving Keith in stunned confusion next to a boiling Cuban.

“Why would Shiro want you two to work together?” Hunk had called from behind the counter, finishing up the last of breakfast so he could join the group. “Does he know Keith enough to have reason for that? Keith’s never done something like this! I find it hard to ask him something so grea-”

“I’ll do whatever.” Keith deadpanned. It was desperate, aggressive, and nerve-wracking all in one. The remaining people at the island all looked at him in unison, not sure how to take his willingness to show himself off as Lance’s, let alone pimp himself out for a night.

“I told you you should have been a Galra!” Allura quipped, Lotor rolling his eyes as they both maneuvered out of the group. “Thanks for feeding our peeps, but we should head out. Everyone return to the HQ when you finish your meals! Thank you!” Allura snapped her fingers and disappeared, Lotor trailing her heels and everyone slowly disappearing until it was only Lance and Keith in the kitchen.

Lance hadn’t taken his eyes off the counter, even though the briefing was long gone.

“Lance.” Keith tried, soft and slow. He leaned against the island, watching as the lanky spazz seemed to be staring at something Keith couldn’t see.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Lance’s eyes didn’t move. Well, from what Keith could see, they weren’t moving. His eye muscles were on fire though, processing all the information Pidge was feeding him. It was quick. A blink and a wall of words that scrolled down his line of vision.  But it was something Pidge had felt only he should know, so he paid careful attention. _

_ “For some reason Keith’s mom’s rumored to attend tonight. I have no idea why, for she hasn’t made a business move in years. Keep him safe, okay? Or I’ll kill you before Shiro does. And watch out. Don’t think we should have a problem mission-wise due to this but god forbid he sees her and breaks. Would be nothing like if Shiro showed up though. Got his ass locked up. Good luck, Lance.” _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lance!” Keith finally broke through after the 10th time, impatient that it seemed like Lance was somewhere else. “Please say something. _ Anything. _ I saw your face. I saw you--”

“Shiro’s an  _ asshole. _ ” Lance spat out, clearly not thinking before speaking as he took a deep breath, blinking a few times before he gripped the edge of the counter, looking at Keith with what could almost be described as patience. 

“I did say  _ anything _ , didn’t I,” Keith snorted, trying to ignore the urge to defend Shiro. Who wasn’t there. Who changed the plans to his name, yet didn’t even bother to show up. Maybe he  _ was _ an asshole. “But look, if this is going to bother you, then I can see if Allura will take her spot bac--”

“The plan isn’t what’s bothering me.” Lance assured, hopping up on the counter and keeping his gaze on the fridge across from him.

Keith mimicked him without a second thought, his eyes on the now empty benches in the other room. So they were going to have this conversation back to back.

“Then what is?” What wouldn’t be bothering Lance right now? He has to fake date Keith for a night at the biggest event Keith’s ever heard of, he was passed out drugged in Keith’s bed last night--a lot had happened.

“Now that you know Shiro’s alive, are you going to go back to him?” Lance sounded so vulnerable, which almost made Keith fall off the counter. The question came out of nowhere, yet Keith should have expected it.

He didn’t know what to say. The way Lance said it so softly meant it had been sitting on him longer than it should have.

“Considering he wants nothing to do with me as per your text, I’d say no.”

“But do you want to?” Lance continued. He was lightly pressing. “Because if so, then I do think it’s best if you ask Allura to take her spot back.” It was subtle but spiteful.

“If you asked a month or two ago, I’d probably say yes,” Keith moved his hand behind him, leaning back a bit so their backs briefly touched. He could feel the warmth from Lance’s hand as he slowly inched his closer. “But shit changes. He’s changed. I’ve changed. And I’ll be damned if I ask Allura to take it back.” Keith did just offer to do this, but at the sound of Lance telling him to if he wanted Shiro? Lance was going to be  _ stuck  _ with Keith now.

“And you’re sure about all this?” It stunned Keith that Lance was...insecure. It didn’t fit him at all. That’s the only vibe Lance was giving Keith right now.

“I wouldn’t lie to you Lance.” He felt the corners of his mouth perk up as he spoke the sentiment. It was easier to be honest when he didn’t have to look at those ocean blues. The ocean blues swimming in doubt right now.

He had to see.

All he heard was Lance take a deep breath as he hopped off the counter, rounding the island and grabbing Lance by the chin. He looked in his eyes and confirmed his suspicion, a memory of them in the gun range bringing up another topic.

“I’m sorry I walked out on you yesterday though,” He was sorry, but not sorry enough to feel extremely guilty. He had a right to, but he didn’t take into consideration what he had been doing to Lance. To himself. “I was just stunned and hurt Shiro ghosted on me.” Lance briefly reached for Keith’s hand, his thumb ghosting the side of it before he jerked back, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” His voice returned to it’s normal obnoxious ring. A ring one could get used to. “Let’s just go get ready for tonight, yeah?” He hopped off the counter, patting Keith on the head rather abruptly before he started out the kitchen. “Talk about shit like this later. Soap opera another day.”

He swore Axca had talked to Lance for him to say that. Who knew?

Only the night would know what happened next.


	11. The Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith expected the plan to go wrong. Hell, he was apart of it. It was his first one!  
> But he didn't expect all of this to happen.
> 
>  
> 
> **The imagery used in some scenes (Particularly with Lance) may be a little disturbing for some so please pay attention to the notes at the beginning and end. Thank you <3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Releasing a messy chapter the day before Season 7 premieres? I'm a madman, but I'm too excited to get this out.
> 
> This is probably the most angst-y chapter in the story? If that's how I'd describe it. It's where all the shit hits the fan, so if you don't want to read a bunch of dominoes falling over and would rather wait for the next chapter which is a fluffy reprise, I'll summarize all you need to know in the bottom notes. 
> 
> Implied Drug Use, shooting at an event (The Gala obv.), and etc are all present in the chapter. If this could make anyone anxious please skip to end!!

Keith looked in the overhead mirror one last time as Lance eased the car into the flow of traffic getting into the Gala. As they waited for the valet, he kept his eyes on the outfit he was wearing in the reflection.

A white tuxedo. Lance picked it out for him. God knew why. Black hair, purple eyes, white suit? It was a disaster. Yet he still decided to wear it because Lance said it went with his choice of a navy tux in a artistic way.

“I still think white is a bad idea.” Keith thought aloud, Lance rolling his eyes as he tapped on the steering wheel.

“Like you could look bad in any color.” Lance quipped, a small grin on his face as Keith glanced over, cheeks slightly pink.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Keith shook his head, his eyeliner subtle tonight as to not draw attention. Well, anymore attention than his outfit. “I’m literally a beacon of white light asking for eyes on me. Weren’t we all supposed to be subtle?” Not to mention he was pale. With the right lighting, one could mistake him for a ghost.

“You’re trying to get a guy on you, remember?” Lance pointed out, moving the car forward as the valet attendant started to approach his window. “Sort of works out.”

“And how do  _ you _ feel about that?” Keith teased, shutting up immediately as Lance grunted and rolled down the window. As he was dealing with the valet Keith took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings that were more than spectacular. His parents were rich, so he’d seen them get ready for plenty of galas. But to attend one? Never was a plan of his. Especially not for the reason he was stepping out of the car and onto the galaxy-printed carpet leading into the museum. The theme was space, so all he saw was a sea of shining dresses and dark tuxedos. None black, for that would be too eye catching, but Keith was happy to see a few other men thought white was a good color.

Maybe now he could get lost in the crowd.

“You really have to watch what you say to me,” He heard Lance almost growl in his ear as he took Keith’s arm, positioning them to walk in like they were bound at the hip. A true loving couple, not just too friends waiting to get drunk. “I didn’t think about your job like  _ that _ until you said something.”

“Sorry.” Keith looked down, nudging Lance’s head affectionately with his own as they made their way into the venue. As they crossed the threshold in a noise in their ear cracked--the comms had been activated.

_ “Can you all hear me?”  _ A shrill voice called, everyone with an earpiece in jumping in unison throughout the museum.

_ “Who the fuck couldn’t?”  _ They heard Matt snap in response.

_ “Shit--” _ Another shrill, followed by a pop. “Okay! Okay. I should sound better, yes? Is everyone present?”

_ “Yes.”  _ Keith, Lance, and the others confirmed. They all arrived at different times to keep suspicion low.

_ “Alright,”  _ Pidge took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.  _ “I’m preparing to upload the blind spots now, call out when you need them. Otherwise, the security seems to be focused on all the entrances and exits right now but according to their rotation schedule a large amount of them will be centered around the stage when the planned speeches occur in about an hour. Try to get the targets singled out while they’re all corralled, will be easier to escape and beat the mass panic that’s more-than-likely to occur. Any questions?” _

“Nope.” Everyone started to sound distracted by the festivities.

_ “Get out there then. GLHF, all.” _

_ “Good luck, have fun.” _

\----------------------------------

Everything was going great. Matt managed to swing Slav off his feet without breaking a sweat, and seemed genuinely interested in what the man had to say. They were situated at the bar on the second floor discussing financing and how the local school system was screwing kids over when it came to their math and science programs.

Ezor had found her way into Kolivan’s arms, the man crumpling within a few minutes at her charm and ability to manipulate his longing for a relationship with his daughter. She acted like she was new to LA, an exchange student from South Korea who wanted to know everything there was to know. He took her on a tour of the Museum, claiming he had owned part of it all while giving her the information he needed. A few drinks in, perhaps a little more information than she needed.

_ “Keep him talking.”  _ Pidge had ordered, and Ezor was more than happy to oblige.  _ “And try not to fall for him, he’ll be dead soon.” _ What could Ezor say? She had a type.

However, Keith was ashamed to admit that his efforts on Thace weren't working, and it was inevitably ruining his mood. Lance didn't miss that.

_ "What's the problem again?" _ Pidge asked, the sound of her smashing her keyboard echoing throughout everyone's ear pieces.

"The host's playboy doesn't swing the way Keith and I do," Lance hissed under his breath, watching Keith sulk near the bar. "And Keith seems to be taking it to heart, making him sulk like a kicked puppy."

_ "Jealous much?" _

"Fuck off Pidge."

_ "Just fix him so he doesn't draw more attention. No one wears white then frowns. It's too much of an eye catcher!"  _ Pidge clicked off, leaving Lance to sigh into a drink as he leaned against a side table. Keith continued to remain still, his eyes searching the floor as the lights started to circle the dancefloor like a sea of stars.

_ "We will now be playing the last song before the speeches begin. Please take to the floor if you wish to partake in the slow dance!"  _  The announcement rang throughout the venue, couples making their way to the floor. Lance had an itch, but he had to admit staring at Keith was a distraction from it. He had to fix that pout. Fix that sulk. He finished his shot before leaving the glass on the table, strolling up to the shorter man who looked at him in confusion.

"Oh, hey-"

"For someone who's supposed to be my date, you don't seem too happy to see me."

"No one's ecstatic over rejection," Keith started, his eyes widening at his words. "Not that I'm taking it like that! I just feel bad that I'm ruining the mission-"

"By being a guy? You can't help that," Lance leaned against the bar, tilting Keith's chin towards him so they could look at each other. Keith's face was illuminated in the starry light. It was mesmerizing. " _His loss,_ really. But you can help standing over here alone at a damn  _ Gala. _ Now come on, we can't have the self-proclaimed  _ beacon of light _ standing over here all gloomy." And with that Lance took Keith's hand, walking him towards the dance floor as the starry lights sped up. Everyone on the floor waltzed in unison, some couples stoic, others clumsy. All evidence that the dance floor was alive. Lance wrapped an arm around Keith's waist as Keith took his hand in the other, both of them joining the movement of the crowd.

"You sure you can dance formally?" Keith quipped, his heart almost bursting from Lance's comment about Thace's loss. Maybe Lance really did think something of him. "Last time I saw you move it could barely be classified as that."

"When you grow up learning the waltz to please your family's company," Lance paused as the tempo briefly picked up, twirling an unsuspecting Keith who gasped as he caught him in his arms. "It's only natural to branch out in other forms." He took a second to flash a smile at Keith's pink cheeks, his grip on the smaller man tightening to assure him he was there. To assure himself this was all real. "You sound like you're complaining."

"I would  _ never, _ " Keith drew out, smiling right back at him as he spotted Allura across the way, nodding towards them as she raised a glass. The music was in full swing now, the floor moving in unison as Keith and Lance twirled in a fashion that one could only describe as light-and-dark moving as one. They were in tune with each other. They were meant to be dancing together.

It was how they met.

But as all good things, it had to come to an end.

Before the song even ended.

As Lance went to twirl Keith out again, Keith took in a sharp breath, almost tripping over his feet as his eyes went wide. Lance struggled not to drop him as Keith choked out;

_ "Mom?" _

And then everything went silent. At least in Keith's mind as he fell out of Lance's grasp, hands on his wrists as the sound of glass shattering registered in his ears. He hit the ground, the stars still circling them as commotion started.

The last thing he heard was a cry. 

_ "No!"  _

He couldn't tell who said it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ "What's happening?" _ Pidge cried through the mics, her voice muffled out by the screams and footsteps of people trying to get out of harm's way. _ "What's happening?"  _ Her eyes were scanning over all the camera streams at once, but all she saw were people running and the glass windows of the Museum shattering.

"Keith!" Lance's voice was broken as all he could get out was a single word "Keith-"

"Holy shit, Keith got shot!" Matt and Hunk responded in unison, the only ones able to speak clearly as the rest of the group were focusing on getting to the man on the floor. Lance held Keith in his arms as sirens started to blare,  the pool of blood on the floor growing by the second. Lance kept his jacket bunched on the wound, Keith barely moving as it appeared his eye was gone.

_ "What?"  _ Pidge shouted, the sound of something breaking behind her startling the group on the comms.  _ "Who would do that? What the hell--" _

"Looks like it was a sniper." Allura pointed out, helping a group of elderly guests escape through the back rooms.

"Did one of the Tirador decide to go _rogue_ the last second?" Lotor's voice dragged through the channel, the silence afterward deafening.

"Say anything like that again, and I'll make sure this is you." Ezor growled through her mic, a gunshot audible after she spoke. Everyone jumped, the crowd screaming again as she shot Kolivan point blank with a pistol.

"Ezor!" Pidge shouted, trying to change the camera views to catch a glimpse of Keith as she felt hands grabbing at her from behind me. "Shiro, get off me-!"

"What? I wasn't letting us leave without succeeding somehow," Ezor explained as she eyed the paramedics rolling in. "Lance, you have to get out of there. They're coming in--"

"I'm not leaving him!" Lance hissed as a pair of heels came into his view, an older woman taking his hand off his bunched up jacket and putting hers there instead. "What the fu-"

_ "Lance?"  _ Lance immediately turned his comms off as he came face to face with eyes that were a mirror to the pair on the ground.

_ " _ Go. _ Now,"  _ The woman snarled as the paramedics wheeled a stretcher their way. "Now!" Lance glanced down at his blood-stained hands, his shirt ruined as he quickly scattered to his feet. He quickly took off as they started loading Keith up, his eyes taking one last look as he fled the scene, jacking an expensive car from the valet and speeding off to the one place he knew best.

Where he had to meet his crew, despite how much he wanted to go and scream off a cliff right now.

_ "Lance?"  _ Pidge tried again after a while, panicking when she received no response.

"His comm is off," Hunk already knew what was going to happen. "I'll go after him, but he's not going to respond."

"Talk to me!" Shiro finally growled with all his energy as Pidge turned her comm off, tears staining her face as she turned to face a man on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"K-Keith-" She tried, but she couldn't hold herself together looking at Shiro's face. She knew telling him would bring back his night terrors. She knew he'd tear a room apart. She knew he'd try to go for Keith, but what could she do? "Keith got sniped! No one knows by who, Lance is MIA, Lotor's a cunt and Hunk's going after him!"

"What hospital is he being taken to?" Shiro's voice was rushed just like his thoughts.

"Like I know yet! I'm trying to balance a shit ton of things here--"

"Figure it out! I have to go get him!" Shiro wasn't prepared for Pidge to spring out of her chair and slap him across the face. He was still as stone.

_ "You'll do no such thing." _ Pidge didn't realize her comm was still on, everyone silent and terrified at the tone of voice she decided to use. She never sounded this serious.

"They won't be able to do shit for him!" Shiro tugged at his hair, his mind spinning as his arm started to pulse. "But you," He pointed his prosthetic at her. "You  _ could _ . You  _ can. _ We just need to bring him  _ here-- _ "

"Don't make him a fucking cyborg like the rest of you!" Allura snapped almost protectively. Why'd she give a shit about this kid?

"And how do you suggest we do that? Hijack an ambulance getting him  _ actual  _ help?  _ Steal _ him from the hospital? He needs  _ professional _ help."

_ "No,"   _ Shiro growled back, his teeth barred like a dog. "You can help him. You and Matt saved my life, why can't you save his?"

"I'm already on it," Matt broke through the conversation, the rest of the crew turning their comms off so Shiro, Pidge, and Matt had the line to themselves. "I'll be bringing him in soon. Get the room ready. Find some fucking blueprints for eyes---"

_ "Eyes?"  _ Shiro choked, the idea flashing in his head too graphic to process. Those violet eyes--damaged? Shot out? Fuck, what happened-!

"You stole the damn ambulance?" Pidge hissed, both worried about different things. "Fucks sake, I thought we were the  _ anti-gang! _ " She threw her comm across the room, stomping off to their surgery deck. A few of their recruits tried to ask her what was wrong, but at her glare they all backed off. Only the few she grabbed followed her, grabbing pairs of scrubs thrown askew throughout the hallway.

No one got in the short girl's way.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunk didn't even get to see his contribution to the plan play out in full effect, but he was sure he'd get a boatload of angry calls in the morning about "food poisoning.". Shay had went home and started to work on forging a report about the tapped water supply, while Hunk found himself in a red pickup outside a shitty motel. After cooking all night and four hours of driving he thought he'd just have to join the group of Tirador recruits in front of him selecting rooms to rest in,  but the second he realized he couldn't find the purpose for his drive, his panic woke him up.

"Hey," he shouted out his window, causing all the recruits to snap their heads at him like a deer caught in headlights. "Jeez, chill. Lance around?"

"He wouldn't come here, sir," One replied, pointing towards the lighter part of the city. "He has a penthouse near one of the larger Casinos. Building's called Balmerra Terrace or someshit."

"Thanks. Get some rest." He pulled out, waving them off as they all locked their vans and went to sleep, awaiting their leader to come retrieve them in the morning.

However, it seems he needed someone to retrieve him. Hunk had parked crooked on both the sidewalk and side road, hopping out and bursting into the lobby of the Balmerra Terrace as he realized Lance's phone went straight to voicemail as well.

"How can I help you?" The woman at the front desk asked, the security guards stationed throughout the lobby all watching him like a hawk. What? Just because he was burly didn't mean he was here to cause trouble!

"I'm trying to get ahold of my friend but he isn't returning any calls, personal or work. I was wondering if you could tell me which penthouse here was his?"

"That is private information sir," The woman glanced at the guards then back at Hunk. "But I can tell you if I saw the resident return here at least. Who are you looking for?" 

"Lance McClain." His words started to speed up, the urgency apparent to any listening to him. The woman then widened her eyes, glancing at the guards in a panic before she leaned close, as if she was sworn to silence.

"He did come through earlier, but he looked like hell. He had blood on his clothes! His hands! Should I call the police?"

"I'm assuming he paid you all off if the security didn't call them already," Hunk sighed, straightening his headband. "But that's why I need to get to him! I'm worried something's wrong and I need to make sure he's okay." The woman bit her lip in contemplation, rolling her eyes as she typed something into the computer. 

"Top floor, penthouse on the right. There's two up there, other one doesn't like being disturbed. On the right." She repeated, making sure it got through to Hunk. He quietly thanked her before running off towards the elevator, slamming buttons until he made it to the top floor. He stumbled a bit, cursing himself for his weak stomach and fear of moving without walking. He managed to make it to the right door, knocking, then manhandling the door.

"Lance!" He barked, still pounding as he still didn't get a response. "Lance! Open up!" At the responding silence, he sighed, punching the door before he took a deep breath.

"Shit." It wasn't currently reinforced, meaning Lance didn't bother to set all his alarms back up when he came here.

Meaning he wanted to be found.

"Shit!" And at the hint of an impulse, Hunk barreled into the door, causing it to fall off the hinges and fly into the living room of the penthouse. Hunk ran in, looking left and right calling Lance's name. "Where are you?" He then noticed two cats pawing at his legs, meowing in unison. "Blue, Black," He took a short breath of relief. "Where is he? What's wrong?" Then there was a noise besides his heart beating rapidly.

A groan, followed by choking sounds. The cats quickly ran over in the direction of the sound.

Hunk froze, trying to trace the noise until he glanced over at the glass door leading to the penthouse's private deck.

And there the Cuban lay, twitching while still covered in Keith's blood.

"Lance!" Hunk cried, running over and throwing the door open to a non-verbal response. "Oh fuck, _ fuck, Lance-- _ " Laying by Lance's head was a syringe and a spoon, a level higher than what Hunk was used to seeing. Higher than what he knew about. He had blood tracks on his face, looking as if he took his bloody hands and ran them down his face. In his hair.

Lance fucking lost it.

But Lance didn't want to call anyone for help. 

He was still barely breathing, which was enough for Hunk to feel the need to talk to him.

"We're going to the hospital." Hunk slowly lifted him up, his body starting to convulse as he carried him out. He threw Lance's limp arm around him, not feeling the need to take off his bloody clothes as he walked him back to the lobby. The receptionist already picked up the phone before Hunk said anything.

"An ambulance is on the way." She frowned, her hand shaking at the sight. Hunk fell to his knees then, the security blocking a few onlookers as Hunk held Lance close, tears falling onto bloody cheeks.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

_ "No questions. I need two Tirador recruits at Lance's penthouse now. Even Ezor and Coran if they can make the drive out to Vegas. It's important. Watch his cats. Fix his door. No fucking questions. Please. get there. Please." _

_ "I'll contact them." _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, the sight in front of Keith surely wasn’t a Gala. His vision was blurry, his body heavy, but he could make out a white tiled room like the back of his hand. He’d been in one one-too-many times supporting Axca through a rough point in her life.

However, this one was a little different. No windows, a single fluorescent light, a searing pain in the side of his head once he looked directly at the light. He wasn’t in a side chair anymore.  _ He  _ was in the bed. Not Axca.

He gasped and tried to reach for his head as the pain grew more severe, but found he was restrained to the bed, choosing to rock it instead. He heard a disapproving grunt followed by footsteps shuffling out, a hand on his wrist trying to calm him down.

Warmth. Warmth from the hand.

_ “Keith?”  _ It was then he realized that it looked like he was only looking out of one eye. He could only look straight up, trying to move it hurting the side of his head that seemed blind. What happened? “Can you hear me?”

Of course Keith could hear the voice. It  _ was _ coming from the side of his head that felt like it was pounded in. It was coming from someone whose hand was on his wrist, positioned right at his side.

However, it wasn’t a voice he was looking for. Hoping for. Maybe that voice stepped out? Yet it wasn’t unfamiliar, and after wracking his brain to figure out how he knew it, tears started to brim as his body shook with fear and confusion.

_ “Takashi.”  _

There was silence after that, Keith letting the tears fall as it seemed the man next to him started to weep as well. They were both pathetic messes. That’s why they were here.

“Yeah,” Shiro had finally pulled himself together, squeezing Keith’s wrist tighter if only to assure himself both were really there. “Yeah, yes. I’m here, you’re here. We’re okay.” But were they? Keith had doubt as he struggled to talk, his throat dry from the air in the room. Shiro must have caught on because he slowly had the head of the bed raised, offering Keith a cup of water as he fixed the pillows for the younger man’s comfort.

“Where are we?” Keith finally asked as he situated himself to look at Shiro, trying not to gasp as he noticed how much the man had changed.

Scars donned his face, a metal prosthetic in place of his right arm. The tuft of hair in the front once black now shined white, all evidence of a man who got himself into a situation that wasn’t worth the reasoning behind it.

“It’s compli--”

“Don’t give me that shit. I’m sure it has something to do with one of the gangs. Which one are you in?” Keith was spewing words faster than he could process them. Thinking hurt his head. It almost surprised Shiro he didn’t ask about what happened to him yet. Shiro resigned and looked towards the exit door, nodding to himself before answering.

“V0ltr0n.exe. Pidge is the powerhouse here, but I’m the face of it.”

“And I’m assuming scars and prosthetics are the image of the place?”

“I can explain everything to you in a little while, but aren’t you more curious about what happened to  _ you? _ ”

“Something happened to me?” It was a stupid question. Of course something happened to Keith, or else he wouldn’t be in a makeshift hospital bed looking at an old flame. Maybe he should go back to sleep.

“It’s hard to explain the solution, but essentially you got sniped and it went right through your eye.” Keith forced himself to look Shiro dead in the eye, wondering how hard the solution was to explain when he put the event so bluntly.

“I got sniped?” Keith blinked owlishly, trying to force his other eye to open. It then hit him why he couldn’t see out of it. “My eye! Who--why me?” He visibly started to panic, Shiro trying to hold him in an instant.

“We’re trying to figure that out, I promise,” His words were soothing against Keith’s rigid frame. “But as for why you can’t see. Your eye isn’t gone--well, your real one is. But--

“I’m going to look like a damn pirate?” He joked, trying to calm himself down through humor.

“No! That’s why you’re here, and not a real hospital. Pidge makes prosthetics for people--” Like Shiro’s arm, “And she had a blueprint for a prosthetic eye. “No one here has one, but she said she’d done it before and it’s worked out perfectly for beholder,” Yet they were essentially part robot, and seemed like they consented to it. Keith didn’t. “So I asked her to do the same for you. It was rough for awhile, you were essentially wearing a red tuxedo by the end of it,” Shiro was rambling. Something he did when he was scared. “But here you are, and soon you’ll have two fully-functioning eyes again. Minimal scarring as well.”

“Yet you consented for me.” Shiro stared at him with wide yes.

“You were going to die, Keith. You know I couldn’t let that happen-”

“Quite frankly I don’t know,” Keith shot back before Shiro could continue. “I don’t know who’s sitting in front of me. I don’t know where  _ Takashi Shirogane  _ went. I don’t know why I ended up in all this, yet here I am. Two percent cyborg essentially.”

“Keith--”

“Yet I can look past all that, if you give me all the goddamn answers I need to fill in the past five years.  _ Five years, _ Shiro!”

“I know,” Shiro let go of Keith completely, the man clearly needing space. Shiro slowly stood, walking to the foot of the bed and pacing. Something he did when he had to get his thoughts together. “I know.”

And so he did. Haggar, the Galra, how he got involved. All of it. He explained how he met Matt and had him program a virus into Shiro’s arm that killed all the Galra influence inside it, allowing Matt to use software to take it over. They then fled quite literally underground, rescuing all the poor souls who had prosthetics from the Galra and recruiting them into the group now known as V0ltr0n.exe. They used physical combat to fight, their prosthetics enhanced to have the upper hand in fights as well as protect them mentally and physically. They expanded their efforts in offering prosthetic aid in exchange for service. They created a circle of loyalty, serenity. They were supposed to be the anti-gang.

He explained how he was essentially banished from Keith’s side. How he didn’t want to hurt Keith. How he had been watching him the whole time. His love for the raven-haired boy never diminishing.

But he also made it clear that he knew it was too late to fix anything, and at the glint of protest in Keith’s eye, he shook his head, saying one word that shut the younger one down.

“Lance.”

And Keith visibly deflated. Shiro knew. Of course Shiro knew. Shiro probably knew before Keith did. Lance did.

And here they were, discussing the Cuban as if he was sitting there with them. Why wasn’t he? Keith assumed he stepped out, but maybe he was never there at all. He couldn’t blame Lance, he was sure there was too much commotion to stay with him.

But Lance also seemed like the kind of person to make an effort to, so the question was, where was he?

Shiro didn’t know, but Shiro was more concerned with getting Keith back to sleep. Rest up. Let Pidge finish her work.

“I’ll go figure out where he is, but you rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Keith already felt fatigue start to flow through him again, but there was one last thing he wanted to say, if only to hear himself say it again.

“Takashi?”

“Yeah?” Shiro was almost out the door, one hand on the frame stopping himself.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Keith.” There was heart in both of their sentiments, but it was dying.

They didn’t say it to each other as a proclamation, it was at most a  _ means to an end.  _

One last chance to say it to each other before the ship sailed. What they should have said to each other the day Shiro fell off the face of the earth but didn’t, because Shiro was too scared to.

And Keith wished it was someone else saying it to him. Not in that moment, no, that was his and Shiro’s, but just in general. A tall, dorky Cuban who looked him in a way he’s never been looked at before. Seemed to cherish the ground he walked on but would never show it. He was closed, but that’s how he was. 

And Keith would be okay with that, after he found him and made sure he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl;dr or skipped due to warnings:  
> >Keith got sniped at the Gala and lost his eye.  
> >Lance essentially almost overdosed and Hunk found him in a messy heap. He's currently at the hospital.  
> >Keith x Shiro reunion!! They will have another scene because this one was sort of not as -deep- as it could have been, but the story isn't about them so had to move on haha
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a good day and I'll be crying with you all about S7 tomorrow <3


	12. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance get a brief moment of rest, while V0ltr0n.exe discovers something that's keeping them on edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Long-ish chapter! Hooray! It's probably the last one of it's kind as the rest of the story is hopefully going to be fast paced since it's coming to an end.
> 
> An end! Aaaa!
> 
> Enjoy!

_ "You're sure?" _

_ "I'm not blind, Matt. It was all too much of a coincidence." _

_ "But why Keith? Her own god damn s-" _

_ "I don't think it was for him. I think he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He did stumble." _

_ "Well, shit." _

_ "Shit is right." _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

"Essentially I'm going to be able to send you messages that only this eye can see," Pidge motioned towards Keith's now-mechanical eye. "It will be a bit nauseating at first, but you'll get used to it. I will admit that I can track what you're seeing and it's essentially a camera for me--"

"I didn't  _ consent _ to this." Keith mumbled for the umpteenth time that day. Pidge rolled her eyes and almost felt like programming a set of selective-hearing eardrums for herself.

"But it  _ saved _ your life. I'm not going to  _ use _ you if that's what you're worried about. I have a lot more important shit to deal with. I only did this because the boss told me to," The mental image of Shiro bossing a girl who couldn't be older than 18 amused Keith. "I'm just saying. If I were to casually glance, I could see what you're seeing. So feel free to send a text if you're about to get into something  _ saucy _ . I don't want to see that," Pidge dodged the pillow flying at her in ease. "It will also improve your aim, but from light ramble I’ve heard you're a pretty good shot. Also, if you look at someone long enough, you could manage to pull out their vitals and current mood. It's like a built in  _ Sims! _ "

" _ Lovely. _ " Keith was itching to leave. Itching to hear back from Shiro. He was tired of this white, sterile room. He blinked a few times, practicing using his new eye that could almost see perfectly. He'd have to get lasik to be able to balance out his vision, but who had time for that?

Apparently, he truly didn't at the sound of footsteps pounding back in.

“We gotta go,’ Shiro was breathless, who his statement was directed at not clear. “Hunk just called me. He’s at a hospital in Vegas with Lance and they’re asking questions--”

“Vegas?” Keith and Pidge asked in unison, the sound of a metal tool dropping to the floor.  

“Why are they at a hospital there?” Pidge continued, the rise of panic in Keith’s mind causing his head to ache again. He let out a groan as he held his head, Pidge shooting him a look of sympathy as Shiro grabbed his sunglasses off of the side tray. 

“Apparently Lance OD’d, Hunk found him--”

“ _ What? _ ” The way Keith said it almost broke Shiro, but not as much as the sound of Lance OD’d broke Keith.

“Okay, okay, just let me text Matt to go with you because I sure as hell am not--”

“I was implying Keith would be coming with me.” Shiro stated nonchalantly, twirling the keys in his hand. Keith was trying to get up, but every fast movement made his head spin.

“He’s still heavily  _ recovering _ , dumbass. You have a fucking _motorcycle_. He can’t go.”

“We still have the stolen ambulance,” Shiro shrugged as if it was normal for people to have stolen ambulances. “Get Matt to pose as a doctor. Get Keith transferred into their system. They can recover together!” He then clapped his hands as if it were that simple.

“You all stole an ambulance?” Keith piped up as Pidge pinched the bridge of he nose to keep herself together.

“Fine! Fine. Grab a recruit and load him into the ambulance while I fake some shit together.” Pidge then stormed off, leaving Keith alone with Shiro and a recruit who happened to be passing by.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Shiro assured him as he attached the IV of pain meds to Keith’s bed, rolling him out towards their underground garage. “But yeah we stole an ambulance. How else did you think you got here?”

“My memory’s a little shot--” He swallowed hard as Shiro winced. “Poor choice of words. I just can’t remember much. But Lance--” He choked out the Cubans name, trying to remember what had happened that’d put them both in their respective positions at the moment. “How hard of a drug addict is he? I had my suspicions but shit--”

“Enough to be heavily concerned about, but I know he would never try to impose it on you which is why I haven’t killed him yet.”

And off Shiro, Matt, Keith, and a recruit went. A four hour ambulance trip to Vegas.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So let me get this straight; everyone in this room right now was in attendance at the Gala that had the shooting. Mr. Kogane in the corner is the one who got shot in the eye, and was just miraculously transferred from LA general to Vegas general for unspecified reasons with an enhanced prosthetic eye that's currently in it's testing phase. Mr. McClain in front of me had been drugged at the event to the point of an overdose, and just so happened to be dancing with Mr. Kogane the moment he got shot, explaining the blood on his person?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And no one here knows why Mr. Kogane would have someone presumably putting a bounty on his head?”

“No sir.” 

“Well,” The detective shut his notepad, taking one more glance around the room as Shiro helped Matt keep himself occupied doing doctor-like things. Hunk had been answering the detective’s questions while a nurse had been adjusting Lance’s IV’s. Keith slowly opened his eyes to take this all in as the detective nodded off. “It’s obvious these two have a bit before they’re recovered, but once they are I’m going to have to have you all come in for further questioning. Thank you for your time.” Keith’s vision started to clear as the detective walked out, the nurse following as Hunk took a deep sigh of relief.

“Thanks for coming,” He flashed a tired smile at Shiro and Matt, none of them realizing Keith was awake yet. He let his eyes droop closed, his focus on trying to see if the man in the bed next to him was breathing. He focused on the shallow breaths as the three continued. “He was in shit shape when we got here. Think he’s doing alright now though.”

“What’d he do this time? He doesn’t even look like himself after a bump.”

“Looked like heroin to me.” The three went silent at that, the only noise coming from Keith as he couldn’t help himself.  _ Heroin? _

“Good  _ lord. _ ” Matt breathed out as he nodded towards Keith, messing with their charts on the computer in the corner to fit their story. Hunk took a seat next to Lance, Shiro approaching Keith before an angered noise startled the three of them.

“No!” Hunk jumped as Lance tried to shoot out of the bed, his eyes wide and lost as he pointed a finger at Keith. “No, no, no! He shouldn’t be here!” He cried out, twitching as Hunk tried to pull him back down.

“Lance-” Keith tried, his voice rough. Shiro already moved to get him water.

“You can’t see me like this!” Keith couldn’t tell, but it seemed like there was a glimmer of a tear on Lance’s cheek. “Go away!”

“Lance, he’s getting help here too-” Hunk tried to reason, but that didn’t stop the sob ripping itself from Lance’s throat. Matt went to hit the Call Nurse button, then realizing he was supposed to be posing as a doctor.

“Then get him a different room!” Lance tried to curl in on himself, the pain and heat from his mistake overwhelming him. Keith visibly deflated, causing Shiro to bite his tongue.

“Shiro,” Keith asked, reaching for his arm as he slowly sat up. His head throbbed with every movement, but he couldn’t do this like this. “Help me up.”

Shiro listened without question, and didn’t say a word until he realized Keith started walking towards Lance’s bed.

“I don’t think you should-”

“Shh,” Keith swatted his words away, Hunk still blocking Lance’s view with his form as Keith approached him, leaning against the larger man for support as Shiro stepped back. “Lance?” Keith tried, but his voice only caused Lance to tense more. Hunk went to move Keith away, but paused as Keith continued. “Lance, it’s okay.” Hunk then moved to let Keith fall into the chair next to Lance’s bed, hand still gripping the portable IV stand like a lifeline. Lance didn’t look at him, but tilted his chin up to let Keith know he heard him.

“Let’s step outside,” Matt nudged the two older men in the room, leaving Keith and Lance by themselves while still in the trio’s view. “Give them a minute.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Lance’s words fell out like a waterfall. “I’m so sorry! You shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here, god, I should have moved you--”

“Why are you here, Lance?” Keith’s tone wasn’t condescending. He sounded genuinely worried, which almost ticked Lance off more. At himself. Not at the man next to him.

“I couldn’t see you. Didn’t want to remember what I had seen,” Lance choked on a sob, reaching for Keith’s hand as he wiped a fallen tear off of Lance’s face. “We were dancing. I should have moved you, but you stumbled. I don’t know what happened. A woman told me to flee the scene, so I did. I was scared. I drove here. Went to my penthouse. Shot up until I forgot--”

“How to breathe?” Keith almost snapped, but his grip on Lance’s hand only grew tighter.

“I went a little far, yeah. That’s why I don’t want you looking at me!” Lance looked like shit. There was still blood stains on his skin, the nurses too busy trying to revive him to clean him up completely. He looked ill. His eyes still didn’t look focused, but that was indeed the Lance he danced with. The Lance he wished he saw when he woke up the first time. The Lance who should be in a seat next to him, not the other way around. But here they both were, recovering together.

“I don’t care that you look like shit right now,” Keith motioned to the IV in his arm and bandages around his head. “I’m not having the best time either. But this is where we ended up, and we’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“But you were having such a shit time at the Gala,” Lance pouted, his eyes finally managing to meet Keith’s. They looked so tired. Keith’s probably looked the same. “That dance was supposed to be what turned things around--”

“Well clearly it changed something--”

“Not funny!” Lance hissed, his body going rigid in pain as he calmed back down. Keith could only give a weak grin. “I just wanted to give you a night you deserved in the midst of our gang bullshit, and it only made it worse--” Keith shot out of the chair then, ignoring the pain behind his eye as he smashed his lips into Lance’s, kissing him if only to shut him up. “Keith--”

“It’s not your fault,” Keith reiterated as he braced himself on the arm of Lance’s bed, lowering himself back onto the seat as Lance’s cheeks remained red. “None of it. You just need some help, and I’ll be here to make sure you get through it--”

“I don’t want  _ help _ ,” Lance spoke out towards the ceiling, his eyes moving from Keith’s to trace the tiles. Another white, sterile room Keith didn’t want to be in. “I just want to  _ get away  _ for awhile.” Keith looked down at his lap at the thought of Lance refusing treatment. Doing this all again--

He couldn’t think like that.

“Get away to where?” Keith wasn’t sure if he wanted to know where Lance would disappear to. The idea of the Cuban leaving him caused a slight rush of panic. Lance must have noticed, because in an instant his hand was weakly carding through Keith’s hair, careful of the bandages.

“Well, here. Vegas. My place. My  _ cats _ ,” He continued to talk as if Keith wasn’t right next to him, yet he was talking directly  _ to _ him. “God, I want you to meet my cats. You’re a cat person right?” He waited for Keith to say yes before he continued. “ I just want to get out of LA for awhile. All the shit. Rest. We both need it.”

“You want me to stay out here with you?” Keith couldn’t believe it. Lance had to still be rambling on drugs, right? This was an act?

But he looked so sick. So vulnerable. So desperate. Keith had to believe him.

“Is that weird? Rushed maybe? Man, I knew I should have just shut up and slept after I cried when I saw you--”

“Lance-”

“Why would you want to stay out here anyway? It’s gambling, drugs and parties. Everything we’re trying to avoid without the gangs-- “ Lance started to twitch. Keith’s head started to ache severely.

_ “Lance.” _

“And why would you want to go to my place with just me? I’m being very frontal aren’t I? Shit! I’m sorry-”

“I’ll kiss you again if you don’t stop.” Keith threatened, but it was more like a tease if anything.

“I should keep going then-”

“No, please, my head,” Keith tried not to sound shitty, but he was about to head back over and sleep. “I’ll stay with you though. After all this. Let’s just focus on recovering for now. We have friends outside that want to come back in and help us. Let’s let them.”

“Okay.” Lance agreed, pressing a button on his bed to call the trio back in. They all walked in, knowing looks on their faces as Shiro offered Keith an arm back to his bed.

“Hi Shiro.” Lance had a goofy grin on his face as he waved to the cyborg-esque man, Shiro cocking a brow as he got Keith back into bed.

“Hi Lance.” he nodded back, confused by Lance’s loopy tone. Must still be high. He shrugged Lance’s gaze off, tucking Keith in as Hunk tucked Lance in.

“I’m not five, Hunk.”

“You sort of mentally are right now.” Hunk quipped back, Matt snorting from the corner as he finished his reports.

“Get some rest you two.” And with that, the room’s lights dimmed, letting Keith and Lance get the rest and recovery they deserved.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks went by, and while the rest of the crew found themselves visiting the police stations like crazy, Lance and Keith found themselves at a newly-implemented sliding door. It opened using fingerprint technology, and Lance swore it wasn’t here before.

“The door is already fancier than anything I’ll ever own,” Keith snorted as Lance fumbled to get it open. “What more could there be?”  
“I think Hunk had this ordered after he body slammed my last one.” Lance noticed Hunk’s fingerprints were logged in the system as well as he got the door open, smiling at his friend’s concern. The first thing Keith noticed was how they were immediately bombarded by an army of two cats, both larger than Keith’s thigh, jumping at Lance as if he returned from the dead.

Maybe he did.

“Blue! Black!” He cheered, dropping his bag and kneeling down to greet them. They mewled happily, Keith still standing taking in the space around him. The penthouse was very open, a few light fixtures around as Lance seemed to opt for the natural window lighting. The kitchen was completely covered in granite countertops with stainless steel appliances, the living room shining with a surprisingly sky blue leather couch with accompanying stereo speakers. The entertainment center attached to it looked more expensive than his whole apartment. The carpet covering the whole floor was a darker shade of blue, giving off Lance’s favorite color if not the name’s of his cats.

“So is blue and black your schtick?” Keith asked as Lance turned to him, both cats jumbled in his arms. Keith’s heart almost skipped a beat at how their little eyes looked at him. How childish Lance looked. This was his home.

“I think they go well together,” He nodded down towards the cats and around the house. “You like it?” 

“I think the wave of red I’m bringing in,” Keith gestured towards the bright red hoodie he opted to wear. “Is a bit of a clash for it. I feel like an intruder.” This place did seem a little too nice for his blood, but as he took in the amount of video game posters decorating the walls, he thought maybe he was overthinking and should just enjoy the hospitality the Cuban offered him. Lance handed Black to Keith who nervously took the cat, snorting.

“An intruder? Nonsense! I did invite you after all,” Lance walked into the living room with Blue in his arms, Black licking at Keith’s face as he followed. “But if you’re uncomfortable staying, I could get you a normal hotel room downstairs until you want to return to LA--”

“No,” Keith interrupted immediately, his tone amusing Lance. “I’m staying here. It’s just a lot.”

“I’m a lot, so it fits.” Lance quipped, his smile lighting up the room brighter than the sunlight coming through. “Want to see upstairs? Or we could have some food first. I make a mean omelette.” The way Lance offered food sounded like there was no room for argument.

“If you’d let me, I can just go put the stuff upstairs while you start cooking.” Keith offered, already grabbing their bags off the floor by the door while Lance visibly contemplated his solution.

“That’s fine. Your room is the first door on the right, mine’s the last one. Don’t go in my study though, if you don’t mind.” At least Lance was honest that he was hiding something in there. But it was a study, so it was probably just business shit Keith didn’t care about.

“Of course.” Keith smiled gently, heading up the floating curved staircase to reach their rooms. The second floor was small, which made sense as the penthouse wasn’t too big in itself. It was larger than a hotel suite, but still small enough that it wouldn’t drive the owner mad. Keith slowly made his way to the door to his room, opening it to find a whole setup of red decor.

His color.

He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The bed centered in the middle of the room was covered in a red bed set, the comforter resembling the one he had at home. His favorite. There was a small vase of red roses on each flat surface, adding pops of color to the seemingly white-colored room. Paintings featuring shades of red decorated the walls, the lampshade red as well. It was his dream room, right in Lance’s place.

Had he planned to ask Keith here sooner? 

Keith shook his head. He couldn't think like that. He threw his bag on the bed, wincing when the bed didn’t disappear and signaled this wasn’t a dream. This room was actually his. Temporarily. He couldn’t help the jump of glee he did as he sped down towards Lance’s room, completely ignoring the big door that screamed I’m the study, enter me! To reach the last door on the right. His hand ghosted over the doorknob, something in him telling him to turn around. Leave the bag by the door. But he didn’t. He turned the knob, the smell of lavender hitting his nose immediately.

In short, the room was a mess. But it was fitting, because it was Lance.

Keith thought he’d have everything heavily organized, something out of place causing the Cuban to spiral out of control, but he didn't. A few shirts were casually laying on the floor, an open magazine hanging off the desk in the corner. The bed wasn’t even made, but Keith can’t remember the last time Lance would have been here. He’d been too far up the Cubans ass at the compound to lose sight of him. Lavender must have been the incense scent burned out in the corner, a fire hazard the sharpshooter could give a shit less about. But it also smelled like the cologne Lance applied to himself religiously; Ocean breeze. Keith learned that Lance had an obsession with the beach, so he found himself a cologne that always kept him there. And here it was, radiating throughout the room. Keith almost forgot why he came in here, until a voice made him drop Lance’s bag and jump.

“I don’t really have people in here, so sorry it’s not really presentable.” The color scheme mimicked the beach as well, with Lance’s signature blues skating around the way.

“But it’s real, so it has a touch to it that’s something to look at.” Keith shrugged, placing Lance’s bag on his bed as he turned towards the Cuban leaning in the doorway.

“Did you like your room?” Lance rubbed his neck sheepishly, as if he was nervous to ask.

“Yeah. I loved it. How long has that all been there?” Lance smirked at the eagerness in Keith’s voice.

“Don’t get your hopes up, boo,” Did Lance just call Keith boo? His cheeks were immediately pink. “I called Coran once I was relatively functional. He and Ezor were cat-sitting after Hunk called them, had him pick up some stuff so you didn’t feel like you were staying in a stranger’s home.”

“Well, thanks,” Keith didn’t miss the look in Lance’s eyes as he walked towards him. But he couldn’t admit how much he’d rather stay in this room. “Food ready?” He tried to shake the thought with cooking.

“Yeah,” Lance seemed to have been waiting for Keith to say exactly what he was thinking, but had to play off his disappointment when he didn't. “Let’s go.”

“And so they ate, checked in with the respective people who wanted them to, and just relaxed the rest of the day. Both of them were waiting for the other to speak, perhaps a shred of honesty that was missing, but they essentially just enjoyed their time together as they were told they had a week before they had to make it back.

They made the most of that week.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t too exciting, as they chose to avoid the nightlife due to Keith’s current sensitivity to bright lights, as well as to keep the temptation off of Lance. He hadn’t sworn off his vice completely, but he was going to try.

His attempt to try was further cemented one night when they had a conversation both had been anticipating, that started off in a less-than-normal way.

They had danced, Keith had let Lance kick his ass in Mario Kart to soothe his ego, and they had prepared meals together. All domestic things that gave them joy yet never sparked the conversation they were currently having on Lance’s deck, staring up at the stars.

“How’s your eye?” Lance asked, tapping the beer bottle in his hand to a tune Keith couldn’t recognize. Pidge had been messing with it remotely even though she said she wouldn’t, but it all appeared to be maintenance stuff. It still annoyed Keith to no end.

“A bit better. Pidge is still messing with it though, and the difference in vision strengths is a little confusing.” He found himself closing his normal eye occasionally just to use his prosthetic one, but Lance had told him to knock that off immediately. It wouldn’t help.

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I’m grateful she did  _ both  _ of mine.” Keith shot up from the lounge chair he was currently resting on, the city bustling down below drowning out the silence that admission caused.

“You have,” Keith couldn’t fathom the question. “Your eyes--”

“You think you’re the only one to come across a sniper’s line of fire?” Lance propped himself on his elbow, too lazy to sit up completely like Keith was. “I know I train my recruits, but they can’t all aim correctly.”

“But both of them?” Keith couldn’t imagine the pain Lance had felt. How that would even  _ happen.  _

“Yeah, it was sort of a bummer. But they’re a nice blue now, so who cares!” He rolled his eyes obnoxiously to show Keith how in tune he was with them. “She sends me messages time and time again to keep me on my toes. But it is one of the reasons I can’t miss now.”

“You don’t miss?” Keith raised his brow, intrigued.

“I mean, I rarely did before. But with these? No chance.” Lance had the egotistical smirk that seemed to be sewn into his face, causing Keith to walk over and shove him so he could sit at the foot of Lance’s lounge chair.

“So the blue isn’t natural then?” Keith couldn’t say he was disappointed--It wasn’t Lance’s fault. But the emotion behind them--it was so real! There was no way they could be real.

“Sadly no,” Lance took another sip of his beer as Keith rested his hand on Lance’s though. “I wish. I had brown eyes though, just like my family. Nothing special.”

“Brown eyes aren’t bad.”

“Says the guy with  _ violet  _ ones. How are  _ those  _ even natural?” Lance sat up then, his hand subconsciously resting on Keith’s as he used the other to point directly at Keith’s eyes, almost drunkenly poking them.

“A mutation or something, I guess,” Keith used to tell people they were contacts to avoid teasing, but it inevitably had people calling him fake left and right. Maybe he was. “I never thought too much of it.”

“You _ love  _ them.”

“Maybe a little. Pidge kept the color accurate which I appreciate.” Keith ran a hand through his bangs, moving his gaze up towards the stars as he felt Lance’s his still on him. His eyes tracing his face, his body. Just looking at him as if he were a piece of art.

Maybe to Lance, he was. As he felt Lance gently trace his jawline, he knew he must have been. Which caused him to move closer so their lips could meet. 

The dark of night hid their choices after that, but Keith was the one to cut it short. Not of embarrassment. Not of disgust. But he just felt the need to keep talking. Enjoy this vulnerability while it lasted. 

It was  _ real. _

“Did I do something wrong?: Lance asked, his shirt rumpled as he remained laying on the lounge chair, Keith straddling his waist. A position that just felt natural.

“No,” Keith ran a hand down his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt lightly. “Hell no. I just,” Now Keith felt embarrassed for cutting the moment short. “I just wanted to keep talking. It was nice.”

“Something on your mind?” Lance was intrigued, fixing himself so he had some dignity left as Keith rose from their chair, pacing the edge of their deck while the moonlight illuminated his raven-colored locks. Lance’s cats followed Keith like a conga line, pausing when he paused. Meowing when he sighed. They were mimicking him.

They were showing Lance he wasn’t a poor choice.

“Sort of. It’s kind of out of left-field though.” Keith started to be vague. Something out of sorts. Lance rose, joining him as he looked out off their neck, squinting to dim out the bustling lights down below.

“You probably shouldn’t stare down there,” Lance pointed out, resting against the railing like Keith was. “But I don’t follow. What do you mean?” 

“I was just wondering something.” Keith paused again, his own thoughts betraying him as he looked at the look of understanding appearing next to him. It had been a long time since he opened himself up like this. Let himself enjoy moments like this. And it was with fucking  _ Lance _ .  _ Lance McClain _ , the  _ Tirador de primera _ . And here he was, about to say something that would make him seem so small. So weak.

“Which is?” Lance pressed, his nerves rising by the minute. It was the first time he thought about Keith’s dad in awhile, and every second he wondered if keeping Keith this close was going to expose him. He drowned out those nerves with booze.

“Would you ever consider staying here?” Keith tried, almost laughing at himself as Lance only nodded.

“I mean I do stay here occasionally, like right now.”

“I mean like,  _ permanently _ ,” Keith opened a floodgate of words as he decided to let go and trudge on.  “Leave LA. Leave the gang shit. The  _ drugs. _ Just revel in all of this. Be Lance.”

“Are you implying I’m not  _ Lance _ at the compound?” Lance tried not to sound hurt, but he never truly realized how strong the mask he wore at work was.

“Do you think you are?”  
“I try not to be.”

“Exactly. Can’t you just drop everything and stay here? Maybe even move somewhere so they can’t find us. Start over.”

“You want me to drop everything and run away with  _ you? _ ” Lance’s tone was harsher than intended, but the balls on Keith just stunned him. Keith tried to curl in on himself to hide the shame for the demand he was proposing.

“It was stupid to bring up,” Keith let go of the railing, shaking his head as he turned around. “I’m sorry. Forget the spiel happened, let’s just go back to what we were doing-” Keith was silenced by a grip on his hip, pulling him back.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Lance made sure to point that out first, resting Keith into his side. It was a warmth he craved. Wanted to stay forever. “It was just bold. I’m impressed. But the shit I do in LA? What I’ve been doing all my life? It’s why I have serenity here. Why all this exists. I can’t just drop it and run because my partner’s asking me to-”

“Your  _ partner? _ ” Keith reiterated, his heartbeat echoing throughout his sides. Lance could feel it. He could feel Lance’s.

“P-Partner in Crime, yeah,” Lance tried to backtrack, but it was too late. “I mean during missions and such we moved as one. We work really well together. I just referred to you as my partner in that aspect--”

“But not like your actual partner?”

“Maybe? I don’t know!” Lance wanted to let him go. To freak out. It was all a lot, but he had to honest. Keith was worth being honest to. “I’m really bad at that type of shit. But you gave me a reason to try.”

“How so?”

“Existing.” 

“That’s cheesy,” But Keith was invading Lance’s space again, looking up at him as if he was the world sitting in front of Keith. Maybe he was Keith’s world. That’s why Keith wanted him to save himself. But he couldn’t. “But I guess I understand your decision. Just keep the thought in mind, okay? I’m not sure how long I’m going to last in your world-”

“Don’t talk like that,” Lance let out how hurt he was by Keith saying that. He’d never let anything happen to Keith! “You’re stronger than most there. It was like you were  _ made _ to be there.” And judging by Keith’s father, he basically was.

“And I’ll be by your side there until I decide I’ve had enough. Then I’ll ask you again to leave.”

“And maybe then I’ll be ready to. But not right now.” Lance pulled Keith into an embrace, kissing his head as he looked out at the city below them. So much life, but nothing compared to the light he felt holding Keith.

The light Keith could look at as he looked at Lance’s smile.

“I can settle for that answer.” And so they let it be. The conversation was over. The vulnerability built up a wall Lance elbowed down, and Keith got the affirmation of Lance’s feelings in only a way Lance would present them.

It was enough for them, and soon enough Keith found himself in Lance’s bed at night, holding onto him as if he would disappear if let go.

It was only a week, but it felt like another reality. How they were really supposed to find each other. Live. Love.

But it was merely a break from the reality Lance held them in, and the reality only set in the day Keith decided to wander into the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason the whole time I wrote the Klance scene under the stars I kept jamming to God is a Woman. It just gave me vibes. The moonlight? The vulnerability? Ah!
> 
> I may write some one-shots of domestic Klance during their week in Vegas at some point, but the chapter was sort of dragging on and we have places to be that aren't a penthouse living large. That's not what these people do! ;)
> 
> Keith's pretty ballsy tho. God bless.


	13. A Broken Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith was never destined for a happy ending. At least, that's what fate kept teasing in his mind.

It was the day they were set to head back to LA, and as Lance took his sweet old time giving a performance in the shower, Keith found himself lingering in front of the forbidden door.

The only defense Keith would give Lance is that he didn’t tell him he couldn’t go in _ today _ , but if he could turn back time, he wouldn’t have went in at all. As Keith opened the door, he was met with a very dim-lit room, shelves lining the walls with books and files, while the desk in the middle had a sniper rifle casually laying on it. A pistol was hanging off the corner.

Way to be subtle, Lance.

Keith slowly walked in, the door gliding closed behind him as he rounded the room, running his fingers along the edges of the shelves as he took in how professional it all looked. It was almost like a true gang boss lived here. He almost forgot Lance was one, because he was so Lance. Not a hardass that pulled guns on those who messed up on his  _ Starbucks _ order while sitting in the leather chair behind the desk, but a semi-hardass who more often than not just made fun of his subordinates while joking around with them. He was real.

At least, that’s what Keith came to believe. Came to love.

If only it could have stayed that way.

As Keith was tracing one of the shelves, looking at Lance’s mass book collection, he noticed a worn out envelope nestled between two books; one about religion and redemption, one about forgiving yourself. It was all too staged, and sent a hint of worry down Keith’s spine as he reached for the envelope. He paused only a moment, questioning if looking was the right thing to do.

His curiosity got the best of him, and in an instant the envelope was on the floor, a wrinkled piece of paper waiting in his hands;

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Keith, _

_ I’m only writing this to give you closure, but I sure as hell hope you never have to read it. I hope this letter never enters your possession at all. But if it has, my boy, all I can say is that I am sorry. _

_ I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I kept things from you, as did your mother, but we only did what we thought was best for you. You deserved an innocent future with the police chief’s son. You deserved to finish college. Deserved a life we couldn’t give you. We couldn’t have. _

_ Your mother and I have gotten into a lot of bad things in life, and to say I’m just a lawyer that represents the criminals of LA would be a blanket statement. I do represent them, but I also provide for them. Weaponry. You must have wondered at least once in your life how we maintained the lifestyle we did, for only legendary lawyers could make that much on a case. The law firm was a cover-business for my true operation; Guns. _

_ I have ruled the west coast gun trade for almost a decade, and I will admit it was intentional all along. I won’t apologize for it, for I never saw myself doing anything wrong, but I will admit it caused me to make more enemies than friends throughout my business career. They never knew about you, as you never knew about them until now. I made sure of this. _

_ Now, to go back to a point; I may have left you, but I guarantee you it wasn’t on my own terms. _

_ If you’re reading this? Leave. Now. Get out of town, get away from whoever gave it to you, because the person who gave this to you is the person who took me away from you. _

_ I couldn’t give you a name, for I’m on so many hit lists it’s a game of musical chairs to figure out who pulled the trigger. But I’m making the delivery of this letter my last request of the killer, if they allow me to do so. _

_ I love you so much, Keith. I always did, always will. And I’m sorry that I allowed the business to break our family apart. I’m sure your mother skipped town with all the assets, for she swore if I ever passed she wouldn’t let our legacy go. I don’t want you to get involved though. Ghost like Shiro did. Take him with you. Start over. Just please, please don’t get involved with what I did. I never intended you to take over. The business dies with your mother, whenever that is. _

_ Goodbye my son, and I’ll be watching you accomplish great things from above. _

_ -Dad. _

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ _ the person who gave this to you is the person who took me away from you.”  _

The letter fell to the floor like a leaf falling from a branch. Keith was rooted in place, like a tree trunk, as his mind felt like a machine malfunctioning. He had to have made up the letter’s contents. Had to of. It was false hope of his decade-long investigation into his father’s true death. There was no way all the answers were locked away in  _ Lance McClain’s  _ study.

An Implication of Lance being the one who  _ killed  _ his father.

It was all untrue! It had to be!

But part of him knew from the second he saw  _ Keith  _ in his father’s signature handwriting, it was all true. This letter waited a whole decade for him, and here he was, finding it in the man he loved’s home, never intending to end up in his hands.

Keith had a brief moment of weakness, wondering if Lance was waiting for the right time to give it to him. If he was planning to when they crossed paths for the first time, but decided not to after he let his dick think for him.

Keith shook his head, Lance cared for him. Adored him. He knew it wasn’t an act. Lance was a poor actor.

But it was over. And as he heard the door to the study creak open, his hand was on that pistol faster than Lance could breathe.

“I told you not to come in here.” Lance deadpanned, his stance steady despite having a gun pointed right at him. Keith didn’t check to see if it was loaded, and debated testing it on the beautiful face in front of him. Keith’s eye had taken Lance’s vitals, and even those seemed too steady to be real. 

“When were you going to tell me?” Keith’s voice broke, and he still held the gun as the rest of him crumpled like the letter on the floor. “Why even keep this? And to put it between a book on religion and forgiveness--what the _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

“Answering any of those questions is going to make me seem like I’m searching for sympathy and understanding, and I’m not,” Lance started, his eyes cautiously darting around the room as they returned to Keith’s frazzled gaze. “But you are one to crave honesty, so it’s up to you.” Lance’s whole tone changed in that moment, and Keith almost wondered if the Lance he lay in bed with was in fact a figment of his imagination.

“Just give me whatever bullshit explanation you have.” His finger on the trigger still didn’t move.

“I wasn’t going to tell you. _Ever,_ ” Lance answered point blank, shrugging as if it was no big deal. “But I kept it as a reminder that I could never give you what you wanted. Deserved. It was never a joke to me, nor a facade, but it wasn’t going to last because of the ghost looming over me--”

“That you put there!”

“I know that!” Lance shot back, a hint of pain in his eyes. How dare _ he look at Keith like that right now.  _ “It’s placement was intentional because it was the reason I was reading those books! That whole shelf! Killing your father was a stupid greedy mistake that my 17 year old self committed, and I can never ask _you_ of all people for forgiveness, so I’ve been trying to ask myself--”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Keith couldn’t blink away the tears streaking down his face.

“It’s not,” Lance had a few tears in his eyes as well. The audacity. “It’s literally like asking you for forgiveness. I can never forgive myself, and I’ll never ask you.” He kept reiterating the same point.

“So you pursued me anyway knowing you killed my dad and were probably going to drop me anyway because of it.”

“Basically.” And Lance retreated back to his emotionless facade before Keith could even address the pain radiating off the Cuban’s broken gaze. He _ did _ feel bad. But it was too late. It didn’t matter.

“You’re a sick fuck.” Keith was shaking. Keith was crying. Keith was--relapsing into how he was when he thought about his father. He finally got the closure he longed for, but at what cost? Losing the other man he cared for in front of him. He couldn’t go through this again, as third time’s a charm was a joke about these situations, but he had to. Fate doomed him again.

“I’ve been told.” Lance shrugged, hands in his pockets to keep himself steady. Internally he felt as broken as Keith. He never wanted to see that face hurting because of something he himself did, but here he was, staring at a young man who he robbed of a father.

Just like the business robbed Lance of one as well.

“So are you going to shoot me with that thing, or what?” Lance challenged, hoping Keith would take that shot but knew the broken boy wouldn’t.

“And give you an easy way out? Hell no,” Keith gently laid the pistol back on the desk, squatting to pick up the letter off the floor as he rose to eye level with Lance. He walked closer until they were a breath apart, staring at each other, begging for a touch. For a rewind button. For an apology, if anything, But Keith knew Lance was too prideful for that. Knew he didn’t want to hear it out of those soft lips. “You took me into your ranks. You _let me in._ You showed me a side to everything a measly recruit was never meant to see, and part of me thinks you were setting yourself up for the day I snapped. The day I found this, even if subconsciously-”

“And what if I did?” A twinge of fear pounded Lance’s chest, his walls slowly crumbling down again. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Take what I gathered and  _ tear your life down _ ,” Keith spat, his voice more serious than it’s ever been. It was a threat that slightly shook Lance, but he’d never admit it. “I might not be my father, and may fail miserably, but I won’t rest until _you feel what I’m feeling right now._ ”

“Oh,  _ darling, _ ” Lance dared run a hand down Keith’s cheek. Keith had to fight to not relish in it. “If you want me to end up like how you are right now, all you have to do is listen to your father’s words. Leave me. Leave town. Start over.” Keith blinked owlishly at Lance’s words. He was wearing a mask with his tone, but his vulnerability was hidden in the way he chose to speak. Lance was scared. Suffering. But he hid it behind a prestigious asshole personality that only those who knew him could read through.

Keith _ knew  _ him. 

Lance didn’t want to lose him, but he made his bed. He had to lay in it.

“Goodbye, Lance.” Keith breathed out, shouldering past the taller man as he made his way to Lance’s room, grabbing his bag by the door as he had to hold his breath to keep from inhaling Lance’s scent. He didn’t breathe out as he stomped through the house, a soft spot in his heart stopping to pet Lance’s cats goodbye as the looked at Keith with concern. Keith took one last glance around the place, the shades of blue mirroring the sea in Lance’s eyes as Keith walked out, not breathing until the door shut behind him.

And then he had to hold himself together until he made it out onto the busy Vegas sidewalk, signalling for a taxi that he jumped into before he broke down in the backseat, offering the driver a hefty tip if he acted like he didn’t notice Keith falling apart in the back.

The driver accepted it with understanding.

Lance however, had no one he needed to ask to ignore him as he broke down in the study, the worn out envelope still taunting him as tears ran through his facade, staining his cheeks.

He lost the most important thing to him because his teenage self decided to kick in too many doors at once when he received his family’s legacy.

If only they could see him now, folded in on himself as he cried over a damn boy.

_His_ boy.

The one who saw through his words, and really took off to hurt him. 

Like he hurt Keith.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith’s next move was a mistake too, for the first person he called when he arrived in LA was one who had a multitude of reasons to want the Cuban dead.

This only set the whole list on fire and place itself at the top.

“I’m going to  _ kill  _ him.” Shiro growled as they sat at a dingy diner right outside of town. Shiro looked like he was about to break the table in frustration at Keith’s drowning eyes, but Keith only sighed, shaking his head. 

“I shouldn’t have told you, but I had no one else,” Axca had moved onto to join the Galra, leaving her little to no time to catch up with Keith. That stung too, but he chose the Tirador, so it was only time before their connection wavered. “But let me deal with it. I just needed to see someone before I completely lost it.”

“But he  _ hurt  _ you.” Shiro tried to reason, his prosthetic pulsing a green light before it dimmed again.

“And I’m not your main concern anymore, remember?” It came out shitty, but Keith had to get it through Shiro’s head that the past was in the past. And clearly, so was his current relationship. Keith debated just letting love go in general.

“Let me help you then, as I’m sure you wouldn’t have threatened you unless you had a plan.”

“And threaten the bond you all have between your respective businesses?” Keith rose a brow. “Not a chance. All I’m asking is if I do decide to try something, don’t have V0ltr0n.exe interfere. I don’t want anyone but him suffering.”

“I’ll try my best, but Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura and Matt were close before I joined in.  _ You  _ were all I had for awhile. You know that.”

“Then I’ll try to be discreet. I’m just sorry for anything that happens for here on now.”

“You just found out the man you fell in love with murdered your father for presumably turf, and you’re sitting here apologizing to  _ me? _ ” Shiro shook his head as he took another swig of his coffee. “You really are something else Keith Kogane.”

“I just have a feeling whatever my mother’s had planned for god knows how long is going to be  _ vile _ . I almost don’t want to reach out to her.” Yet he already did in the taxi ride back. He had texted her a few times and left a few voicemails, receiving no reply but knew that wasn’t uncommon for his mother. She kept to herself, but he knew she read and heard every single thing he said.

“But you  _ need _ someone, and if it can’t be me, she’s probably your next best option.” Shiro and Keith shared a glance in agreement, knowing this was probably one of the last times they were going to see each other before Keith fell off the face of the earth. He was going to get away for awhile, revert back to the time before he did that interview, but for now he just needed to find his mom and let his mother deal with the shit she seemed to know about for years.

Was he a little bitch crying to his mom for help when he was in trouble at the fine age of 26 years old? Yes. Sure. 

But was he truly a killer that could take this into his own hands? No. He should have shot Lance right then and there but he couldn’t. Lance knew he couldn’t. So he had to pass the torch to someone who could, while he sat behind and quivered at the sight of his whole world crashing in front of him.

Half of it already did, the letter resting behind his phone in it’s case.

A phone Lance probably had tracked. A phone Pidge could probably hear through. But he didn’t care. It would all be over soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y i k e s I'm sorry 
> 
> but not really teehee :')


	14. Shattered Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally heads back to Texas.
> 
> Wait, Texas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoW: Battle For Azeroth came out recently and it's been sucking my time in like a wormhole help  
> I'm back tho I escaped Lance helped me out :')
> 
> Also @ chapter summary: teehee :)

_“The package departed Vegas in a taxi, arriving later at a beat-up diner on the outskirts of LA.”_

_“Why the diner stop?”_

_“Appeared to meet up with Shirogane. Whereabouts unknown since.”_

_“Anything else?”_

_“No ma’am. The package is yours now.”_

_“Start sending out the tips then. All of their lines. I want it to be another spectacular like their last group organization.”_

_“Should we give them as much time as we did with the Gala?”_

_“No, no. It’s a simple warehouse “meeting”. They don’t need much preparation, just a tick to gain some common sense. Nothing good comes from warehouse locations.”_

_“Fair enough. Starting the data breach and contact now.”_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Excuse me sir?” A customer tried to get the employee’s attention, but to no avail. “Sir? Could you help me with something?” After a sigh in defeat and a groan from elsewhere, another more enthusiastic employee appeared.

“He’s had a long day,” The cheerful one explained, beckoning the customer over to her counter so she could assist them. “Lance!” The voice broke through the zoned out employee’s trance, causing him to almost fall over the counter he was leaning against.

Ezor’s voice.

Lance forgot where he even was.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lance nodded towards the customer and waved the two off, shaking his head as he tried to adjust to reality.

A reality in which he was in one of his many gun stores alone, a raven-haired cutie no longer chatting with customers across from him in an effort to make the customers feel more welcomed. No one went into a gun store with their mind at ease, and Keith made sure he tried to change that.

_Keith._

It had been the millionth time since Lance returned to LA that he thought about him. The man walked around as if he was missing an organ, yet everyone knew it was better than to point it out. They didn’t want to lose their eyes either. He couldn’t blame Keith, nor could he take back what he did, but he could still think about the man.

_Long_ for him.

Lance felt weak, and for the first time, he didn’t want to cover it up. However, his itch got the best of him, for he was now weaker to his vices than ever before.

He sobered up immediately at the sight of the crew entering his store. The place cleared immediately, customers jumping at the sight of four armed men in suits and sunglasses accompanying an all-too-familiar face in a silver-sequin dress that dragged on the floor as the woman walked. Ezor almost left as well, but was too loyal to Lance to jump. She opted to stay at the opposite side of the store, watching in horrified curiosity with a phone shaking in her hand.

“Walking into a gun store while armed is sort of redundant, don’t you think?” Lance snorted, leaning against the counter behind him as the posse approached the stand in front of him. As soon as he locked eyes with the woman however, it was over.

Memories flooded back into his mind like a dam breaking.

He gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white, trying to hold a straight face while the group looked on.

“Can’t be too safe,” The woman shrugged, her hands clutching a handbag like it was a lifeline. Her manicured fingernails dragged down the front of it, tapping the shimmery pattern as she continued. “Krolia Kogane,” There it was, hand out and all, “And I believe you have something that’s mine.” Her hand remained out towards Lance as she waited for him to shake it. The audacity of the woman.

Despite how he knew this woman, he shook it, nodding towards the guards as they all grunted towards him.

“Not anymore after he found out what I _did_ ,” Lance shook his head, retreating his hand to the edge of the counter as his eyes traveled out the window. “Which I’m sure _you_ have an idea of.”

“You think I was talking about _Keith?_ ” Krolia had the audacity to laugh in Lance’s face. It was cold. “Sure, he was part of what I was referencing to, but truthfully I was talking about all this.” She gestured to the store around them, guns gleaming and Ezor bolting out the door, the only indication she left being the sound of the back door slamming.

“And you’ve just decided to come out of the woodwork to reclaim it?” Lance looked at her skeptically. “Bring the boys to shoot me in my own domain?”

“ _My_ own domain,” Krolia corrected him, slamming a nail onto the counter. “All of this. Not yours.”

“If you’re here to kill me, could you just do it already?” Lance started to take off his signature olive jacket, tossing it across the room to avoid impact. “Don’t want to get blood on that. Would you mind burying it with me though? It’s like a safety blanket.”

“You’re making requests despite there being an illusion of a gun being pointed at you?” Krolia spat, none of her guards making the move to aim at the sharpshooter.

“Texas was ballsy like that. Why can’t I be?” That was enough to make Krolia remove a handgun from her bag and point it directly at him, the guards hands tensing on their guns stationed away.

“How dare you speak his name!”

“His last request was for me to give Keith a letter explaining everything you two never told him,” Lance could see the tears forming in Krolia’s eyes. “And I did. I lost everything because of it. What are you going to lose by burying me with stainless jacket?”

“You lost everything because of your stupid decision.” Krolia pointed out, hand steady as she ghosted the trigger with her fingertip.

“And you’ll do the same if you pull that right now,” Lance nodded towards the trigger, any sense of fear he had of dying diminishing as he talked. “But then again, how close were you and Keith? You did just leave him with a slump of money on a curb and wished him good luck here. Am I wrong?” He watched Krolia grit her teeth in response.

“You think he’ll give a shit if I kill you here right now?” She tried, but Lance could tell she was faltering as much as she was.

What a way to meet your ex-lover’s mother.

“No, but he will think about it. It’ll haunt him like he haunts me. If anything, you should give him the pleasure of pulling the trigger himself. Let him get his revenge seeing as the loss stuck with him more it will ever stick with you--”

A bullet flew past Lance’s head, leaving a hole in the wall behind him.

“If he had the balls to do that, he wouldn’t have called me.” So Keith ordered a hit on Lance? Lance almost smirked at the thought.

“If he had the tools and support to carry on Texas’s legacy, he wouldn’t even care to remember you anymore.” It was that fact that hit Krolia like a truck, the guards all aiming at Lance as they felt her unease.

“Don’t act like you know my _son_ better than me.”

“Don’t act like you know your son better than _me._ ”

The conversation ended there, Krolia stunned by the audacity of the _Tirador de primera_ to speak so curtly towards her. Keith’s mother.

It was also obvious to her he regretted what he did. Deeply.

Keith truly was a world he lost, and she could only give Lance a look of pity laced with hatred.

He did it to himself. He took her world, as well as his own.

He was a child lost in a world he didn’t belong in. Caught up in what his family gave to him. Forced him into.

Of course he would be drawn to the one who got away from it all. Her boy.

“We will see each other again.” It was a promise from her lips as she took her lead, leaving Lance to ponder in what light would they come to face to face again.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**[19:30]** **Keith:** I looked up the address you said you wanted to meet at and it’s at a warehouse. Should I be worried?

**[19:32]Mom:** Of course not. I just caught word you know of what your father and I did, so I figured it was time to show you.

**[19:32]Keith:** And what if I don’t want any part of it? I’m kind of sick of this world.

**[19:34]** **Mom:** Then we can return to normal. I promise you that.

**[19:35]** **Keith:** Okay.

**[19:36]** **Mom:** Love you.

**[19:45]** **Keith:** You too.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“They’re called the Texyndicate. Such a shitty name, but Krolia created them in homage to Texas.” Pidge had a chart pulled up for the rest of the group to see, the recruits in training while Shiro, Allura, Matt, Hunk and Coran all say in the conference room. It was one of the rare occasions that Pidge showed her face to the team, but this was important.

“And who do they target?” Allura inquired, taking notes to take back to the Galra later.

“People like us,” Pidge tapped the board behind her, highlight a hitlist she dug up behind her, a name more prominent than the last of hers. “I’m not sure her exact obsession with _Lance_ , but considering we all got the invitation to meet, and seeing as they were the other hosts of the Gala, it’s safe to say they want all of us.” The rest of their names were on the list as well, but with notes of doubt such as _affiliation_ and _intellect_ , not just **Lance McClain** in all red lettering.

“So are we going?” Hunk asked, pointing at the digital clock ticking behind them. “Because if so, we have like an hour to pull together some sort of defense in case this goes south.”

“It’s going to go south,” Shiro’s prosthetic fist was clenched on the table. “The question is, how do we approach it?”

“We aren’t exactly diplomatic.” Matt smirked as he tapped a beat on the table, trying to keep himself sane. Sitting too long in meetings made him antsy, a sign they needed to wrap it up and let Pidge and Matt out.

“But she is Keith’s mother, yes?” Coran pointed out as the table all looked at the older gentleman for guidance. “She must have an idea of how close he got to all of us if she pulls this stunt. Perhaps she’s looking for unity? She wouldn’t try to endanger her own son--”

“Her own son that _skipped town,_ ” Pidge huffed, pulling up the image of a lost signal tracking his phone. “Right Shiro?”

All eyes were on the timid man at the head of the table. At his glare, she shrugged and closed her presentation, a stress headache coming on as she grabbed her coffee mug off the table.

“He had to have left for a _reason_ that I’m sure _won’t_ be _shared_ with us,” Her voice was still tensely directed at her cyborg-esque boss. “So who’s to say this isn’t a set up?”

“He left because of Lance,” Hunk broke the tension with honesty. “Something happened between them while they recovered. Keith wanted to return to normalcy or someshit because of his head injury. Lance let him go.”

“And you’re assuming it was all mutual seeing as the sharpshooter himself is barely able to form sentences lately?” Allura asked as innocently as possible despite the shots being fired in her words.

“Sitting here blaming each other is what’s going to make this all go south!” Coran’s voice of reason broke through everyone’s shroud of doubt. “All we have to work with is the words from Lance and Keith themselves. Keith is out of the picture, and Lance just needs someone to pull him together for the sake of this meeting. After it goes down, negative or not, we will work on what truly happened between them since their private affairs are clearly more interesting to all of you instead of your real jobs,” Hunk went to defend himself but Coran shushed him with a hand. “But for now we have a trap we’re willingly walking into and we’re going to be smart about it. Got it?”

They all nodded and moved on, too scared to piss off the elder member anymore than they already had.

They headed to the warehouse as one, vans of recruits following in the flow of traffic.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a show of arms. At least, that’s all Keith could think of it.

When he arrived to the warehouse a valet took his bike and parked it around back. A _valet._ At a _warehouse._ It was so _extra_ and so _Krolia_ he had to believe his mother when she said it was an operation of her own. Everything was an event to her. When he walked in he realized the outside was a cover for what went on within. The outside was a broken-down brick warehouse, while the inside was renovated to the nines. Gun-filled shelves lined the building from wall to wall, the floor a night black hardwood with red walls to show off the family colors.

The family colors that were coincidentally his favorites as well. Red and Black.

Krolia had greeted him with open arms, showing him around the place with an arm around his shoulders. It was too comfortable for him, planting a seed of doubt in his mind as he followed the woman he trusted more than everyone, despite her ghost act long ago.

“I am sorry I left with all the assets and never truly explained everything.” Krolia kept her gaze down at the main floor as they rested on a walkway up above, watching a conveyor of guns be crafted by machines only. There were no other _people_ in sight.

That’s what worried Keith as well. But once again, he trusted her.

“You did what you had to do.” His voice was low, almost hurt, but understanding. She kissed the top of his head as she started to walk back down, her sequin-dress shifting as she walked.

If only Keith knew she’d have more to apologize for later.

He warily followed her, the seed of doubt growing larger as he heard the large loading door of the warehouse creak open to the sound of multiple vans pulling up, a familiar voice rumbling that caused him to pause.

“ _Krolia._ ” It was a curt greeting. A curt greeting from Shiro. Keith held onto the railing he was hiding behind as he slowed his roll, taking his time to meet them on the main floor as he tried to process what exactly was happening.

“ _Takashi,_ ” She was just as curt back, a light audible gasp from the group as she said his real name. A name not everyone in the groups knew about. “It’s been awhile. How have you been?”

“You know her?” Ezor had quipped, the one of the group too stupid to keep her mouth shut.

“He _knows_ my son, therefore he met me eventually. Past times though. Come in, come in,” She beckoned for Allura, Hunk, Ezor, Lotor and Shiro to follow her. Lotor had insisted on coming despite Allura’s warnings, if only to protect her. However, there was someone else present Allura had wished stayed home.

“ _Axca?_ ” Krolia paused the group, the recruits filing out of the vans stopping as a familiar red-lipped beauty climbed out of a van.

Keith’s heart started to bound, causing him to wait at the top of the last staircase.

“Hi Mrs. Kogane.” Axca sounded so jaded Keith wondered if she was even surprised anymore at what this world had done to both of them. Keith could only wonder what she got into while under the _Galra_ wing.

“You can come too! The rest have to stay out though. I have no arms inside.” Krolia assured, but even Keith stopped believing her as he took a look around.

It seemed too still. Too quiet.

A voice was missing as well.

_Where was Lance?_

Why did he care? He felt tears start to form at the idea, wiping them away as he heard the click of heels reach the middle of the room.

“You were never one to be shy, Keith. Why start now?” Krolia was then right in front of him, offering a hand down the stairs as the rest of the group stood in the middle, bewildered by his presence.

“Shit.” Axca was the only one who spoke under her breath, Krolia’s arm wrapped around Keith’s shoulders as she started to talk.

“I just wanted to have a meeting with you all because recent events have called me back into town, and I’m sure you know just how prominent our family used to be around here.” No one dared talk, only nodded as Keith looked at everyone, trying to find an answer on a face.

He couldn’t even read Shiro’s at the moment. The only present face he found security in.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve figured out that I was the secondary host of that Gala, along with my group under the name of the Texyndicate.”

“A poor name choice, I must admit.” Lotor quipped, earning an elbow in the stomach from Allura who kept a worrying gaze on Axca.

“Perhaps the Galra could help us choose a different one then. Anyway, though that event did not end as planned,” She paused a moment, running a gentle finger down Keith’s tensed cheek. “I was hoping it would show as a plea for unity. I’m planning to return operations to LA, and was hoping to have some allies when I arrived.”

“And you want us to ally with you?” Hunk asked, the only one gentle enough to respond to the woman.

_“She’s lying. She targets people like us, remember?”_ Pidge rang through the earbuds they all wore, a piece Keith had put in subconsciously but hid under his hair. He bit his tongue to follow what was going to unfold.

“I mean, not with me specifically,” She then grabbed Keith’s shoulders respectively, shoving him forward to give him more light. “With Keith. He’s going to be running my operations here.

No one missed Keith’s wide-eyed reaction.

“What?” He choked out, spinning on his heels to look at her. Everyone just stood, stunned.

“Don’t act like you weren’t aware, baby,” Krolia rose a brow, feigning innocence. “That was the plan, remember? That’s why you got into their ranks, met all of them on a sense of honesty? You all opened up to him like a blooming flower, which was a mistake in this world. I figured for how strong you all are, you’d know better than to trust a damn news intern--”

“I’m not taking this over.” Keith hissed through gritted teeth, everyone’s trust in him starting to falter as they considered what Krolia said.

_“Is that true, Keith?”_ Pidge must have figured out he was listening.

_“It’s in his best interest not to reply right now. No one.”_ Matt’s voice had responded over their comms.

“Then why go through with our plan? Were you just hoping to make everyone look like fools right now?”

“You’re lying.” Shiro broke through, taking a step forward with a face of steel.

_“Shiro, don’t.”_

“And how would you know that?” Krolia had shoved past a still-seething Keith to approach Shiro, her height matching his. “You and Keith had an interesting conversation at a diner before I sent the invitations for this out. You seemed all too willing to drop everything,” She gestured towards the line of friends behind Shiro. Leaders. “And everyone to aid in my son’s tyrade to kill Lance. Even ask your little tech-gremlin friends not to interfere. Why haven’t you told anyone about that?”

“You want to _kill_ Lance?” Allura asked, flabbergasted as her voice broke towards Keith. “ _Why?_ ” Even Axca frowned at the revelation.

_“Keith, what is happening? Does anyone know where Lance even is? Someone respond!”_ Pidge was losing it behind her desk back at the compound.

_“Did you really say all that Shiro?”_ Matt sounded hurt. Shiro merely shook his head as he knew he couldn’t talk to them, only look at the woman in front of him like she was a virus waiting to attack.

“Why wouldn’t he want to kill Lance?” Krolia shrugged, returning to her son’s side as she held him with a look of pride. “Lance did kill his father. How do you think Lance surpassed Texas’s legacy here? Magic? Hard work?” All their faces went pale. “The only thing that boy can do is charm his way into people’s trust. And _shoot._ But only because of _enhancements._ He killed Texas and took his business. Why do you think a _Kogane_ ,” Krolia gestured towards Keith, his fists clenched as he was started to grow tired of whatever show his mother was putting on. “Would show up all of a sudden? It was all planned.”

“No it wasn’t!” Keith shouted, silencing his mother as he lashed out. “I didn’t even know about all this until the other day! She’s lying to you all!”

_“Yet Lance killed your father, and you ended up attached to him. Got a lot of intel. It is quite suspicious.”_ Pidge didn’t want to believe it either, but it was reasonable. The only person _not_ giving him a skeptical look was Axca.

Not Shiro. _Axca._

“Say all this is true. Why wait a whole decade to get back at Lance?” Hunk was the best at holding himself together. “You probably had the mind and arms to go after him the next day. He was only a teen with a scraggly group. What stopped you?”

“I didn’t have a properly trained heir at the time,” Krolia patted Keith’s burning cheek lovingly, wiping his tears on her dress as she continued. “But now I do. You all did the hard work for me. Now he can take his throne and you all will have to obey or else the vulnerability you showed towards him will be used accordingly.

They were all fools. Even Keith. That’s what they kept telling themselves as a moment of silence loomed over the room, Keith a moment from exploding as even Shiro looked at him in doubt.

_“God damnit.”_ Pidge cursed as Matt remained quiet, a spark sound cutting through Keith’s earbud as he realized she cut him out.

He thought she of all people would realize how much of a facade this meeting was. How he was oblivious to all of it. But maybe his mother buried all that info to the point where even Pidge couldn’t access it. She would have known about the Texyndicate at the Gala if Krolia didn’t hide it.

_God damnit._

“I don’t want this.” Keith tried again, his gaze on the ground as his voice pleaded for it all to end. “Stop this.”

“You don’t have to continue the theatrics anymore, Keith. It’s all out there now. Just take your seat and use it.”

And before anyone could retort, another voice rang throughout the room as the door creaked shut.

“ _He said he didn’t want this,_ ” Lance had approached the group in stride, ignoring their looks of disgust and contempt as he walked right up to Krolia, gun in hand.

Gun in hand, shoved in Keith’s direction as he kept his glare on the taller woman in front of him.

“He doesn’t want anything to do with your legacy. A legacy that should have died a decade ago, but hell, that would have been a lot of arms and profit to get rid of,” The group behind him winced at how non-apologetic he seemed about murdering a man when he was barely one himself. “He just wants me dead. And quite frankly, if it gets you away from us and this town, take a damn shot.” He demanded through gritted teeth, tossing the gun into Keith’s grasp that made the pale-man fumble as he latched onto it. Krolia merely glanced between the two men, before she walked over and joined the line of leaders waiting to see what would happen.

“Such a story,” She mused, folding her arms. “Let’s see how it ends.” She mocked as she looked at the rest of the people in the room, everyone broken just as she had hoped. Keith glanced down at the pistol, then back up at the ocean eyes begging him to end it all.

He couldn’t do it.

A flame bursted in him, his hand pointing the gun between Lance’s eyes, but no one made a move, because even they knew he couldn’t.

He wanted to. God he wanted to, but something told him that this wasn’t what his father wanted.

His father wanted him out of this. If he wanted Lance to die, he would have had a bounty on Lance’s head long before Lance took him out of the picture.

He wanted to tear Lance down from the inside out, but that wasn’t him. All he could do was feel resentment towards the man, the love of his life, for the rest of time.

So Keith merely moved the gun from Lance’s head and aimed it upward, shooting a bullet at the man descending from the rafters, causing his lifeless body to hang as more started to appear.

“Keith--” Lance choked, quickly turning to notice the men descending from the rafters as all the entrances to the warehouse flew open.

“Get out of here!” Keith shouted at the group. His friends. His business partners in a sense. Those he came to trust, all maneuvering to dodge bullets as their recruits flooded in to fight alongside them.

It was an all out war that echoed throughout the building. Bullets, blades, electro-grenades. It all flew, and no one left unscathed.

In reality, not everyone left at all. There were dead recruits, dead members of the Texyndicate, but none of them mattered. They all signed up expecting this to happen one day.

Who _never_ truly consented to all of this?

The man who, when he saw Lance caught in the crossfire of his mother’s prized fighter, launched himself onto the _Tirador de primera_ when he realized that for the first time in a presumably long time, the Cuban _missed_ his shot.

The sharpshooter.

The enhanced sniper who never missed.

Missed his shot on the fighter.

And now all Lance could do was smell the familiar scent of blood and blurred out as screams as he fell to the ground.

This kind of shit was common in his line of work.

Expected.

He let it all take him. Them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF. Hi. Don't kill me yet, I still have to post the epilogue tomorrow. 
> 
> Not to get hopes high or anything. Lel.
> 
> <3


	15. 365.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LA wasn't the place for him. For them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at first going to make this chapter between Shiro and Lance, as it seemed sort of fitting to all the events throughout the story, but I felt a different character deserved the light for thirty seconds as the main three are very prominent in anything they're in.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

  1. _That’s how many tallies were written on the whiteboard stuck to the front of his refrigerator._



\----------------------------------------------------------

A year had passed since Krolia had won, since the Kogane Texyndicate had reclaimed their throne in the LA gun trade. Their throne over the whole crime world there.

After the events in the warehouse, however, no one in V0ltr0n.exe’s inner circle wanted to pledge allegiance to the power-hungry widow, so they all decided then was the best time to leave that world behind.

Hunk had the easiest time adjusting, his catering business running full force without taking _special_ orders. Shay even opened up a chain of bakeries.

The Galra simply started a fashion line with Allura at the head of it, hundreds of boutiques popping up throughout California. Axca was her right hand, while Lotor simply funded it. One could never pry him from Allura’s business, even if she wanted him gone.

Matt and Shiro ended up in some cybersecurity job, but it must have been more than that seeing as she couldn’t pinpoint where they were. What they were doing. She just simply knew they were okay.

But as she found herself laying a daisy on Keith’s grave in the outskirts of LA, plane ticket to South Korea in hand, Pidge knew she’d provide the decorated tombstone the closure it longed for. She longed for. She hated not having all her ducklings in order, and the name missing from her list finally came to her under an alias; a common man living big in Seoul.

“Be careful.” That’s all Matt said as she called him to let him know her intentions.

“He won’t do anything to me.”

“But that doesn’t mean he won’t do anything to himself.” They left it at that, Pidge resting a gentle hand on the stone one last time as she gathered up the dead daisies she had left before. There was one dead flower she refused to touch though, despite how forgone it was.

A rose.

That stayed with Keith until the day the world decided to wash it away.

She didn’t put it there. It wasn’t hers to take away.

“You both deserved better.” She’d say it every time she left, this time with a backpack slung over her shoulder as she headed for the airport.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Leo Moralez._

Such a random name to work up the ranks of a business in Seoul, but he had the skill to go from a nobody to a somebody, which is what got him a seat at a sky cafe looking over the city.

Most of the civilians couldn’t even afford to breathe in here, yet here he was, picking at muffin crumbs as his mind raced, his coffee refilled by a young woman clearly looking for a way to the top without effort.

He merely nodded her off, leaving him to listen to the voices begging him to relapse in solitude. He didn’t get to where he was without being sober, and he thought nine months of sobriety was a triumph. He longed for his vices daily, but he made a promise to himself based off someone else’s desires. He wasn’t letting either of them down. Not this time.

That person was the only ghost he kept around, which is why when he looked up across his table and found another ghost looking at him fondly, he nearly jumped out of his skin to get away. A gentle hand on his stopped him.

“So, South Korea better than LA?” Despite being the age of a college student, Pidge always managed to have a childish charm that calmed anyone. As long as she wasn’t behind a computer, of course.

This was only the second time he ever saw Pidge’s face as well, so her voice was the only thing that truly gave her away. The only time he saw her she had a short bob with bangs, round glasses, and wore a green hoodie every day. He questioned it’s cleanliness due to the lines of coffee stains surrounding it, but as he looked at the long, braided hair and square glasses of the young adult in front of him, he figured she got the memo and changed her ways.

“It’s different.”

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” There it was. The real Pidge coming out.

“Trying to be in a boy band, obviously.”

“With that complexion?” She gestured to his tan skin compared to all the pale moons in the room. “Good luck,” At his tense jaw, she softened. “Talk to me, _Lance_.”

“It’s _Leo_ here,” He immediately hissed, feeling as if eyes were on them. They both did stick out like sore thumbs in the room, but hey, he paid to be up here. They couldn’t question him. “But why would I talk to you? So you can go back and send a witch hunt after me?”

“I’m not calling you _Leo_.”

“Then I’m not calling you Pidge.”

“Like I give a shit,” Pidge leaned back, kicking her feet up on a stool as if she owned the place. She could never fit in with the snobs. Her high-tops signified that. “Hi Lance, I’m Katie,” She mocked a greeting as if they never spoke before. “Anyway. Why would there be a witch hunt after you? No one knows I’m here.”

“Except Matt. Am I right?” Lance raised a pointed brow as he took a sip of coffee, waving over a cup for Pidge.

“I sort of had to in his case.”

“Fair enough. Why wouldn’t you all be after me though? After everything?” Katie watched his Lance’s eyes started to glaze over. Like even though he left, nothing left his mind.

“To be fair, you left before anyone could leave you. I don’t think any of us could hate you more than you hate yourself.” That was the thing about Pidge. She was always blunt, regardless of the situation.

Lance could appreciate that, any other time.

“But what I did-”

“Was awful, sure. But we’ve all got skeletons in our closets. Comes with the lifestyle,” Pidge silently thanked the barista as she brought a cup of coffee over, waving her off as she realized the woman was staring at Lance a second longer than appropriate right now. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you tell me why you chose South Korea of all places to start over?” Pidge watched as Lance shifted his gaze outside, focused on the skyscrapers that screamed opportunity. Modernization.

A break.

“Keith told me once he wanted to come here one day,” The way Lance said the other man’s name explained so much more than Pidge really needed to hear from him, but she let the man go. “Figured I’d come see what peaked his interest.”

“And have you found it?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe he saw something you can’t. The eyes I make aren't programmed to see into the soul.” She tried to joke, earning a small smile from the Cuban, but that was it.

Then there was silence. A pause before the dam truly broke. Pidge merely waited, working the hems of her sleeves between her fingers as she let Lance work through his next words without breaking down completely.

He truly was only an obnoxious hardass because of all the drugs he did. This vulnerability was evidence that he had stopped.

“Yknow, Keith never asked anything of me,” And then it started. “I always guessed he knew better than to.”

“He never asked anything of anyone as far as I knew.”

“Except one thing. Once,” Pidge rose her brows as Lance kept his gaze on the city, really searching for what Keith would have been drawn to. “He asked me once to just leave everything our group worked for behind,” It hit Pidge like a truck. “The gangs, the money, the notoriety. All of it, and just start over. New name, new place,” Lance’s voice finally cracked, his resolve slowly diminishing. “That’s all he wanted from me.”

“And?” She felt her right to pry was over. She got all she needed from that statement, but getting Lance to talk was good for him.

“I’m doing it now. That’s the answer to your question. I never listen to _anyone_ ,” Pidge had to stop herself from making a sly comment at that. “and here I am trying to have a fresh start because one of the only people I ever _loved_ asked me to.”

“Surely he meant you two _together,_ ” Pidge felt the need to mention. She knew what he was getting at, but his ego started to shine through. She never heard him say he loved someone before though. That made her backtrack. “But I’m guessing you still feel like he is.”

“Every day I notice the small things that make this city seem like a home,” Lance nodded down towards a brightly-painted flower shop on a strip full of grey boutiques with high-class neutral fashion. “I tell myself it’s Keith pointing out his vision to me. But to shoot back at your point,” Lance glared,”No one ever gets _exactly_ what they want,” His teeth were clenched. “And you damn well know I did what I could to try and help him that day.”

But he missed his shot.

And despite the 365 tallies on his refrigerator, that fact was burned into his mind. He couldn’t get it to go away. He didn’t believe it either.

He figured going mad was safer than overdosing.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“That I killed his father to the point it turned his mother into a crazy bitch that essentially threw him into danger’s arms to get all of us?” Pidge’s grip on her cup tightened at his words. “I think it is.”

“If you look at it like that, sure,” She had a soft spot for her friends, but Pidge learned to be cold on the inside for this. Logic, not heart. It got you through this shit. “But he jumped in front of you. Despite killing his father, despite exposing yourself in whatever way you did in Vegas, he threw himself into you so he wouldn’t have to watch you die.”

“Maybe he just wanted a way out,” Lance joked through a fallen tear. “Death’s an easy escape, right?”

“Or maybe he just wanted a way out _for you_ ,” Pidge gestured towards the window they sat near. “Look at where you are. What you’re doing. You’re saying you’re doing what he wanted, and maybe he intended for you to do it alone. I take back what I said, if only to get you to see it in a better light. He saved you so you could save yourself, and here you are doing it. You’re clean, you’re successful, you’re free.” Pidge stood then, realizing there were men in suits slowly approaching their table.

She figured she wasn’t welcome here. She looked like Seoul’s homeless compared to all the suits and pencil skirts she saw floating through the white-marble cafe.

“But I’m not happy.”

“That’s going to take time,” Pidge rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing lightly as she didn’t have time to hug him. “But you’ll get there. One day. Just know I’m around if you need to talk to someone."

“And is everyone else okay?” Lance finally heard himself ask. He hadn’t thought about any of his friends since he dipped out, but seeing her older, rested face showed him times had changed.

“Yep,” She nodded towards the guards gesturing for her to leave. “And you will be too.” She then let go of his shoulder, walking with the guards until she reached the front door of the cafe.

She stopped abruptly, using all her strength to get the guards to quit dragging her as she spun on her heels, calling out to Lance.

“One last thing!”

“Yeah?” He called back from his seat.

“The rose has been dead for awhile. Might want to go replace it.”

And she was gone.

All of it was gone. It was just _Leo_ , his coffee, and the waitresses constantly staring at his handsome differences from the men they were used to.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pidge returned to the grave a week later to deliver another daisy, a soft spot within her bringing a smile to her face as she saw the pop of color that was resting against the tombstone.

A bouquet of roses, along with a miniature whiteboard with 371 tallies on it.

The last tally was a heart. Smudged by an assumed tear.

He’d be okay.

Keith would watch over him, and he’d be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo mama this was a ride to write. I've only ever finished like three long-ish stories in my life so this was an accomplishment in my eyes!
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, views, whatever. Just thank you all for giving my little recreation of a former idea the time of day. I'd apologize for it not having the most happy ending despite all the shit it's thrown at you in each chapter, but I think that's the beauty of it. The world it was set in isn't all domestic fluff and rainbows.
> 
> There will be a set of one-shots having to do with this story coming along at some point as there are aspects to the world I wanted to explore but didn't find the point to in the narrative, so look out for that coming in the following weeks :)
> 
> School's starting for me soon so alongside that I think I'm going to stick to smaller ideas for now, but I do have another large project in the works! My like two year long writers block ended so I'm excited to GET CREATIVE. :D
> 
> Thank you again, and I'll see everyone soon. <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna yell with me or see any shitposting I reblog feel free to hit me up on:
> 
> tumblr: @ello-rxchello (I gotta learn to use tumblr more I feel like an 80 year old woman navigating that site)
> 
> Have a great day <3


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